#euronymous fluff

On a rainy Sunday afternoon, you were finishing up band practice at the henhouse and asked Øystein to wait for you in the car so you could run up to the old house and check for mail. 

Every once in a while, some got dropped off, so you’d made a habit of checking every time you were out in the studio for band practice. 

Sure enough, there were a few letters, and you were beyond surprised to see that one of them was for you. 

You very rarely got mail, but when you did, it was always from the same person. 

When your eyes darted to the return address in the corner and you clocked the American zip code, you couldn’t stop the grin from stretching across your face. 

You tore it open, right there on the porch while heavy rain hammered against the tin roof loudly, and balled up the envelope to toss in the makeshift garbage bin that lived out there. 

Øystein pulled up to the house and shouted a quick ‘hurry the fuck up’ after opening his wondow a crack. 

You’d barely heard it over the rainfall.

Clearly, he’d grown tired of waiting for you and was getting impatient. 

You tucked the letter, along with the rest of the mail, into your coat pocket to keep it dry and ran the short distance to the car. 

The door was locked when you tugged on it, and you couldn’t help but be annoyed about it. 

It took him a moment to realize. 

“Asshole.” You grumbled when you finally fell into your seat, “You did that on purpose.” 

“No, I didn’t.” He snapped immediately, scowling “if you hadn’t taken forever, I would be paying attention instead of being pissed.” 

“So, you admit that you weren’t paying attention!” You exclaimed with a tone that very clearly said ‘gotcha’. 

“Shut up.” 

You rolled your eyes and pulled the letter back out so you could read it. 

The smile was back as soon as you saw the familiar handwriting, and only stretched wider with each paragraph of chicken scratch. 

“What are you smiling about?” Øystein couldn’t pretend he wasn’t interested. You never got mail. 

“A friend from back home is coming to visit!” You grinned excitedly. “My best friend.”

“Oh, this is so exciting!” You were so happy that even he couldn’t help but crack an amused little smile. 

“On the 29th,” You hummed thoughtfully, counting on your fingers before huffing out a laugh. “That’s this Saturday! I wonder how long this thing’s been sitting on the porch. I don't think I checked last week, did I?” 

He just shrugged.  

It was nice seeing you excited and happy. It made his chest feel warm. 

But then, it all came crashing down, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. 

“I haven’t seen him in so long, I can’t wait!” You rambled, mostly to yourself, “I wonder where he’s gonna stay? If he already has plans, then great. But he’s never been much of a planner, so he’ll probably end up staying with us.”  

Him?

Your best friend was a man?

In all fairness, you’d been stuck living in a house full of boys the entire time he'd known you, but still.

“Is that okay?” You only glanced over at Øystein, oblivious to the vice grip he had on the steering wheel and the hard flex of his jaw. 

“There’s no room.” He reminded you stiffly, but you were too hyped up to notice. 

“He can have my bed.” You waved him off, “Can I borrow your car to pick him up at the train station?” 

“Then where are you gonna sleep?” Øystein had to fight not to growl at you, dreading your answer. 

“We can share.” You waved him off. “So, can I?” 

“Maybe.” He grumbled, “So, what. Is this guy your boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something.” You shrugged. 

That wasn’t a no. 

“We’ve been best friends my whole life.” You smiled softly “We were attached at the fucking hip up until I left.” 

“So you’ve fucked, then.” Øystein snapped, unable to hold back. 

Your head whipped to the side so you could glare at him, finally picking up on his tense posture and gritted teeth. 

“That’s none of your fucking buisiness.” You scoffed despite knowing that if things were the other way around. If he had a girl best friend who suddenly showed up out of nowhere, you’d feel some type of way about it too. 

“I just want to know if I’m gonna need noise-cancelling headphones to block out the sound of the two of you going at eachother.” 

“You’re not gonna need them.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest “There will be no fucking.” 

“But there has been.” It was supposed to be a question, but he sounded so sure that it came off sounding like a statement. “Before.” 

“Well, yeah, but that was ages ago.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal. “We tried it a few times when we were teenagers, but mutually decided that we were better off as friends.” 

Øystein refused to believe that any man on earth was capable of just wanting to be your friend. 

You were too pretty and kind and fuck-

He needed to make sure this guy wasn’t going to swoop in and take you back to America to live happily ever after. 

“I’ll take you to the train station.” Øystein blurted suddenly, “To pick him up.” 

“Okay,” You stretched the word out, your tone full of suspicion and your eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna be a dick though, are you?” 

“No, I’m not gonna be a dick!” He all but snarled. 

“Fine.” You crossed your arms over your chest and faced the road. “Thank you.” 

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ride to the store. 

You couldn’t help but worry about the two boys clashing. They both had big personalities and took on leadership roles in just about every setting. 

Øystein was very clearly jealous, which tended to make him behave like a possessive, dickhead.

You were hoping for some growth, though. 

Things had been peaceful for the most part after your recent move into the store. 

The two of you were finally getting along, and you were a little scared about ruining all that progress. 

You really did like Øystein. Despite his general grumpiness and his tendency to snap at you for seemingly no reason, you’d gotten to see a softer side of him. A side that you could love if you’d just let yourself. 

You didn’t want to make him jealous. 

This wasn’t just some game to you. 

But the relationship you had with your childhood best friend was sure to rub Øystein the wrong way. You’d always been overly affectionate with one another, holding hands or hugging, cuddling up on the couch while you watched movies at night, but it really was platonic. 

There had been a time when you’d both considered the possibility that it could be more than that. That there was some kind of romantic spark between the two of you. After trying out a different kind of intimacy a few times, all that came out of it was awkward, clumsy sex that left you both worried that you’d made a terrible mistake and ruined your friendship. 

It had been an uncomfortable conversation to have, but the relief in the air when you’d realised that he felt the same way was palpable. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. 

When Saturday morning came around, Øystein was in a mood, and you were bouncing off the walls with excitement. 

You were determined not to let him ruin this for you and had been ignoring his sulking for the last few days. 

Every heavy sigh and grumble under his breath left you seemingly unbothered, which just annoyed him further. 

Not a single word was uttered on the way to the station. 

You’d popped a cassette in the tape deck when it became clear that Øystein had made it uncomfortably quiet on purpose and cranked the music up to fill the silence. 

The two of you stood at the edge of the train station platform, propped up against the side of Øystein’s dad’s Volvo. 

He was smoking and deliberately hadn’t offered you a cigarette for the first time since you’d moved into the store together. 

Asshole. 

Before you could dwell on it too much, you spotted a familiar mop of curly brown hair stumbling out of the train and broke out into a grin. 

You pushed off the car and left Øystein standing there as you made your way towards him. 

“Eddie!” You called out to him once you were close enough and started running when his head snapped over in your direction, and he started shrugging off his bag and carefully setting down his guitar case so he could open his arms to you, beaming. 

You threw yourself into his arms and wrapped yourself around him as he lifted you right off the ground and spun you around, squeezing you tightly. 

“Fuck, I missed you” He muttered into your hair when you buried your face in his neck. "I can't believe you're here."

“I missed you too, Eds.” You sighed into his skin. 

And you had. 

You hadn’t realised to what extent until that very moment. 

The smell of Irish Spring and detergent enveloped your senses. The cheap one that Wayne had always bought, then complained he hated. 

You’d always liked it.

Eddie smelled like home. 

You couldn’t be sure how long the two of you stood there, wrapped around one another, but you could feel Øystein’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. 

When you pulled back finally, Eddie cradled your cheek in his palm, not quite ready to let go yet. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You asked, looking up at him with a pinched brow, “Not just to see me, right? You said in your letter that you were already coming.” 

“There’s a label that liked my Demo.” He shrugged, standing so close that you could feel his breath on your forehead. “I came out to see if I can get signed, maybe get into a studio somewhere and record.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” You beamed, “Didn’t know anyone out here was into heavy metal like that.” 

“Said they were trying to branch out.” Your friend explained, “I kind of had to come out, though. You fell off the face of the earth, Sweetheart. Where the hell have you been?” 

You couldn’t hold his gaze, so you dropped it down to your shoes. 

You’d been good at sending letters when you lived up at the house. 

He usually got a response after a week, two at the latest. 

But you hadn’t written in months. 

There was no tapering down or anything of the sort. Just radio silence on your end. 

“I-” You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the words. 

“Hey,” Eddie's finger hooked under your chin to force you to look at him.  “What’s wrong?” 

The worry in his eyes was almost too much to bear. 

“Um,” You cleared your throat, “You know my roommate? The one who, uh-” 

“Pelle?” He frowned. 

God, he remembered. Of course, he remembered. Eddie had always been so fucking attentive and you were so glad because you weren’t sure if you could finish your sentence. 

“He killed himself.” Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, eyes darting up to the sky in an attempt to keep them from falling. “I found him and it was-” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and a tear slipped, rolling down your cheek. 

Eddie was quick to wipe it away. 

“It was bad.” You forced yourself to finish. “Eddie, It was so fucking bad and I spiralled, hard.” 

“Oh, honey,” you could hear the sadness in his voice. As if he were trying to take it from you. To bear some of its weight as he pulled you into his chest. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I should’ve called you.” You breathed shakily into his vest, “I’m okay now. I have been for a while, and I should’ve at least written you. I’m so fucking sorry, Eddie.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He muttered into the top of your head. “I’m not mad or anything. I was just really worried, sweetheart.” 

It was taking everything in you not to fall apart in his arms right then. 

The two of you stood there until you could pull away and not burst into tears. 

It felt like hours, but it could only’ve been minutes. 

Øystein would have come over there if you were taking too long, and he hadn’t. 

“So,” you wiped any stray tears from your cheeks and looked up at Eddie, “What’s the plan? Have you got somewhere to stay?” 

“I booked a hotel.” He nodded, brushing your hair out of your face before collecting his belongings. “Thought I might have to look for you a bit.” 

“That must’ve cost a fortune!” You looked horrified. “And the plane ticket? Jesus, Eddie, now I’m really sorry.” 

“I was gonna come anyway.” He shook his head. “Label, Remember? I had a little money squirreled away.” 

“Right.” 

“I’m actually planning to swing by their office this afternoon. You know, let them know I’m serious and all that.” 

“Do you want a ride?” You offered, nodding towards the brooding metalhead glaring at the two of you at the edge of the station. 

“Let me guess,” Eddie raised a brow, “Øystein?” 

A laugh bubbled out of your throat as you nodded. 

Clearly, you’d painted an accurate picture in your letters. 

“He’s not so bad anymore,” you led the way back to the car. “We’ve bonded.” 

“He looks like he’s waiting to deck me in the face!” Eddie groaned. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend looked like a serial killer.” 

“Eddie!” You grabbed his arm and made him stop so you could look up at him with wide eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend! Don’t say that out loud.” 

“Why’s he so pissed then?”  He started to sigh, but then a knowing look took over his features, signed with a teasing smirk. “Ohhhhh, I get it. He wants to be your boyfriend, doesn’t he? Or maybe you want him to be your boyfriend?” 

“I don’t know what the fuck Øystein wants.” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. It wasn't lost on him that you hadn't commented on the second half. “Listen, it’s complicated. There’s a lot I need to catch you up on.” 

“Like,” You side-eyed your roomate/bandmate/occasional flirt “A lot.” 

Eddie just chuckled and promised quietly that he wouldn’t use the word boyfriend at all on this trip.

Despite the teasing look on his face, you knew he wasn’t going to deliberately embarrass you. 

“We’ll drop you off at your hotel, and you can do your thing. Wanna meet up later, and I’ll give you a debrief? There’s a bar by my place.” 

“Perfect.” Eddie sighed in relief. 

He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if you were standing there waiting for him to get off the train. 

“Øystein.” You called out to him once you were within earshot. There was a slight tone of warning in your voice: “This is Eddie.” 

“Eddie, Øystein.” 

Eddie held a hand out for him to shake, but Øystein just blinked at it, unimpressed. 

“Don’t be an asshole!” You hissed, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow. 

He ignored you too, and got into the driver’s seat. 

“Dick.” You muttered under your breath, looking up at your friend apologetically. 

“It’s okay.” 

You could hear the tension in his voice that very clearly told you that it was not, in fact, okay. 

But he’d do anything for you, and if that meant he had to let your asshole ‘not boyfriend’ drive him to his hotel, so be it. 

He was just happy to see you. 

Øystein didn’t say a word the whole ride, and it was making you increasingly angry. 

He’d promised not to be a dick. 

Yet, here he was, 

Being a dick. 

The closest thing to conversation you got was a half nod when you told him which hotel Eddie was staying in. 

You tried to ignore him and asked Eddie about your friends back home and his Uncle Wayne, struggling not to smack the driver upside the head. 

The whole time, all Øystein could think about was how you’d held eachother. 

He’d never seen you so excited, and to know that it was someone else making you happier than he ever could had cut deeper than he thought it might. 

The way he’d spun you around like it was some fucking romantic movie irked him. 

The hand on your cheek stung. 

But what had really gotten him was when Eddie had tilted your head back. Øystein had been so sure that he was about to watch you guys kiss. 

That one, he’d felt like a knife in his gut.

Instead, he was pretty sure that he was watching you cry.

And then came another hug. A moment of comfort that he couldn’t offer you. 

He knew it had been stupid to go with you to the train station but, at the very least, he wasn’t at home wondering if you were fucking your secret boyfriend in the backseat of his dad’s Volvo. 

By the time he rolled to a stop outside Eddie’s hotel, you were fuming. 

The air inside the car was full of tension and Eddie, ever the shit disturber shot you a mischeivious smile and planted a wet, loud kiss on your cheek before getting out of the car. 

“I’ll see you later, Sweetheart.” He said loud enough for Øystein to hear, and ducked out of the car before you could so much as blink.

“I should’ve just asked Jan to borrow the van.” You muttered angrily when the car pulled back onto the main road. 

You weren’t far from Helvete. 

Walking distance really. 

You could just get out of the car and walk back. 

But you didn’t.

“Why, so you could slide a mattress into the back of it for your little reunion?” Øystein snarked, very clearly not understanding just how upset you were. 

“Øystein.” Your jaw flexed with the effort it took not to lose your shit on him “You promised me that you wouldn’t be a dick.” 

You sounded far too calm. 

He hated it when you did that. 

It made it clear that you were at the end of your rope, and it freaked him out every time. 

It was better when you yelled. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. God, You’re such a fucking asshole.” You shook your head, looking out the window until he pulled up in front of the store. 

You didn’t even wait for him to come to a complete stop before getting out of the car and storming into the store. 

The door slammed shut behind you, and you let out a little frustrated groan, stomping your foot like a toddler.

You’re cheeks warmed when you turned and saw Faust staring back at you from behind the counter, looking awfully amused. 

“It’s not funny.” You grumbled, shuffling past him to flop down on your makeshift bed. “He’s being a prick.” 

“Are you okay?” The boy’s face was flecked with concern when he saw that you were genuinely upset. “What did he do?” 

“He was just rude as fuck to Eddie!” You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face to block the light and muffle your loud huff. “After insisting on coming with me!” 

“Eddie?” Faust frowned, and you lowered the pillow to squint at him. 

“You know, the friend I was picking up this morning?” 

“Oh. I thought your friend was a girl?” 

“Øystein knew!” You sounded exasperated. “He knew, and I told him that nothing is going on with the two of us, and he still acted like an asshole, even after promising that he wouldn’t.” 

“I told all of you when I was talking about it yesterday!” You remembered, even more frustrated as you groaned loudly. “Does anyone ever listen to me?” 

In all truth, you’d been wearing a low-cut top the night before, and he was pretty sure that his eyes hadn’t left your chest the entire time you’d been talking, apart from flicking up every few seconds to make sure you hadn’t caught him. You weren’t talking to him directly, so he only listened up to ‘so my friend is coming out’. 

Usually, he listened. 

Hung onto your every word. 

But you’d caught Jan staring just a few minutes before and just rolled your eyes, so he figured that he was allowed too. 

Now, he could see that he’d focused a little too much of his attention on your tits. 

“Too much beer, maybe.” He muttered, averting his gaze as his cheeks warmed. 

Øystein stormed through the store and into his office, slamming the door behind him, drawing both of your attention. 

You scoffed, and Faust frowned.  

Jan showed up with beer a couple of hours later, and you sipped yours from your bunk, quickly forgetting about how angry you were at the man locked in the back of the store. 

You were with your friends and had plans to see Eddie in a few hours. Øystein being a dick was nothing new, and didn’t matter. Everything was fine. 

As long as Øystein stayed the fuck behind that door, there wouldn’t be a problem. 

As it turns out, you were focusing on the wrong door. 

You didn’t flinch when the bell above the front door chimed. The conversation going on around you continued, and you were engrossed in it until you heard a familiar voice. 

“Uh, I’m looking for Euronymous?” 

“Eddie?” You pulled yourself to your feet and looked just as bewildered as he did.

“What are you doing here?” You both spoke at the same time, and both Jan and Faust shut up to watch. 

Occultus was still talking, but Faust shoved him hard enough to snap him out of it and pointed towards the two of you. 

Someone flicked off the music blaring through the speakers. 

“Looking for Death Like Silence.” He frowned, brows pinching together in confusion. “Do you work here?” 

“Sort of?” You grimaced, realizing the wasn’t caught up on the whole you living inside a record store thing. 

“Why are you looking for-” You cut yourself off, eyes widening with realization. “Oh.” 

The label he’d flown all the way to Norway for. 

He’d been writing back and forth with Euronymous.

And now, he was looking for him, not knowing that they’d already met. 

“What?” Eddie didn’t like how freaked out you looked. 

“Why is it so fucking quiet out here?” Øystein emerged from the back office, already looking annoyed. 

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. 

“Eds,” You gestured towards him awkwardly. “Meet Øystein Aarseth, better known as Euronymous. Founder of Death Like Silence.” 

“Øystein, I give you, Eddie Munson, which you would have known if you were paying attention at all this morning.”

Part 2

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) I think that it would take him a while to warm up to you, but when he does, Øystein is the biggest softy and is all over you. He's always touching you in some way, and when you're alone, he'll kiss you all over your face. B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) I feel like 90% of this man's relationships with the people around him are either a transaction or a forced proximity kind of thing. You might be in a band that hangs around Helvete, or maybe he sees you at every party, and the two of you are always gravitating towards one another. Once you're friends, he'd still be all broody and standoffish, especially if you're not constantly bending to his will C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) This man is obsessed with cuddling. He'd never, ever admit it, but it's his favorite thing to do. He loves curling up in bed or on the couch with you, wrapped around you like you'd ever try to flee.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Øystein would probably love to settle down. If he could get out of his head a little bit, he'd be able to ease into that domesticity. I think that Øystein's actually pretty clean. He'd keep the house neat and tidy, doing the majority of the cleaning. However, I don't think he could cook a solid meal to save his life, which is why he eats out 90% of the time. It would have to be an arrangement where you do the cooking and he does the cleaning. E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) It would be messy and likely cruel. He'd snap at you and say something nasty that he knows will hurt in an effort to push you away. F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) I actually think that he would want to lock things down as soon as the two of you get into a solid routine. If you lived together and things were going smoothly for long enough, he'd start thinking about it. Actually getting himself to propose is another thing altogether and would probably take him forever.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Physically, I think he's really rough with you. Lots of pulling and fingers digging into your skin, insistent and possessive as he holds you. He also has trouble being considerate of your feelings a lot of the time, especially when you're arguing. However, I think he is entirely capable of being gentle both physically and emotionally, but you probably only get to see it when he knows he's hurt you or one of you needs it. H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) In private, yes. He loves hugging you from behind while you're cooking, or doing anything that requires you to pay attention to something that isn't him. But in public, he's unlikely to hug you in front of his friends. It would be more like slinging his arm over your shoulders or a hand on your waist possessively. I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) He thinks it pretty early on, but he'd have trouble getting the words out unless you do it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) This man is jealous af 24/7. If someone so much as looks at you, he's staking a claim, whether that be a hand slipped into your back pocket or pulling you into his lap if he's sitting down. I wouldn't be surprised if he started sucking on your neck, marking you up right in front of them. K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) His favourite spot is the crown of your head. He loved pressing his lips to it while you're curled up in his arms. It's such a soft and tender kiss, too. Full of love. Øystein likes being kissed all over, but a kiss on the cheeks always makes him blush for some reason. L = Little ones (How are they around children?) I think that Øystein is actually really good with kids. He's good with his sister at least, as we saw in the movie. He might have a little bit of trouble with the really small ones, but if it was your child, he'd be a great dad. M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) When you need to get up for the day, or even just to pee in the middle of the night, it's a battle every time. You'd have to peel him off of you while he whines tiredly about it being cold without you, trying to pull you back in. When you finally do get out of bed, he's hanging off of you like a toddler while you make breakfast and get ready for the day. N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) If you're not at a gig or hanging out with the rest of the guys, you and Øystein are at home, cuddled up on the couch with Kabab and watching a movie. O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say  everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) I don't think that Øystein is the type to just outright tell you anything deeply personal. You'd just learn things about him as they come up. I'm sure he's got plenty of secrets that will never see the light of day.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) This man definitely has a short fuse. When he's in a shitty mood and something sets him off, he's blowing up at you in a matter of seconds. He's got little to no patience and is easily frustrated. Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little  detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Øystein really does try to squirrel away as much information about you as he can, especially before the two of you are dating. He knows all your favourite snacks and enough about your family to never feel left out around the dinner table when the two of you are visiting, but I think he's definately got selective hearing and is straight up not listening sometimes, lost in thought as he writes a song inside his head, or plans the next gig for one of the bands signed to his label. R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) I think that the moment Øystein realises that you want him just as badly as he wants you would be seared into his brain. As cocky as he acts sometimes, he really is just an insecure guy, and truly feeling that reassurance from you takes a weight off his shoulders.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) I think that Øystein is less protective than he is possessive. We saw with Varg in the basement that he'll let shit slide if it earns him some points with his friends, but once you're openly dating, he's got his hands on you at all times when you're hanging out outside your apartment, and it's enough to deter most unwanted advances. T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) I think that he probably sucks at remembering aniversaries and birthdays, but for you, he'd write them out real big on the callendar in his office so he never misses one. He's more likely to buy you something than he is to make your gift, but he definitely puts the effort in to make sure it's something you'd actually want. U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Snapping at you when he's upset with something that's got nothing to do with you. If you catch him in a mood, he'll take it out on you if you're not careful. Sometimes, it feels like you're walking on eggshells around him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He knows what he's doing with those arms of his when he's cutting the sleeves off of old t-shirts and cropping them to show off the hard planes of his stomach and the delicious looking V-line creeping into the waistband of his…- Anyways, he's a cocky little shit and he knows exactly how hot he is. W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) He'd never admit it, but once Øystein's got it for you, he's got it bad. He is so tremendously down bad for you, that it's not even funny, although his friends might disagree if they saw the way he acts when it's just the two of you. X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Øystein hates taking naps. Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Secretly loves it when you gently rake your hands over his scalp while playing with his hair. Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) He wraps himself around you so tightly, regardless of how warm it is, and will borderline restrain you to keep you from scooting away from him in the night.

You made yourself comfortable and had just started to doze off again when you heard the chime of the bell above the door. 

You sat up and cleared your throat as quietly as you could before sipping the water Faust had brought you. 

Øystein’s eyes locked onto you the second he’d cleared the counter, carrying a Tupperware container full of broth and a bottle of cough syrup. He set everything down and rested his chin on the edge of the bunk. 

“You’re awake.” 

“Barely.” You cracked a tired smile and winced when you realised that your lips were painfully chapped. 

“What?” He was frowning. 

“Is my chapstick down there?” You poked her head out of the lofted space and looked down at your own bed, but almost pitched right over the side of the bed, completely off balance in your still half-asleep state. “I need it.” 

You gasped, but Øystein caught you by the shoulders and nudged you back onto the mattress with a disapproving look.

"I'll get it."

“Which one?” He scoffed, ducking into your little cavern. “There’s like twenty of them in here.” 

“Is there a blue one?” 

“There’s two.” Øystein re-emerged with both and tossed them up to you, watching as you promptly coated your lips with one and sighed in relief. 

“Thank you.” 

The slight sheen it left on your lips had him wanting to kiss you so badly that he seriously considered just yanking you down just so he could, but you were sick, and he knew you were just gonna push him away, so he shook the thought from his mind.

“Are you okay?” he propped himself up against the counter and sent you a sympathetic look. “You slept through most of the day.” 

“I was up for a little while when you were gone,” you yawned, rubbing your face with your hands. “Saw Jan and Faust for a minute before they left.” 

“Everything hurts.” 

“Do you want some soup?” 

“I can’t tell if I’m hungry.” 

“I don’t think you ate anything at all yesterday.” Øystein frowned. “And you haven’t had anything today either, so you should try.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding as you pulled yourself over to the ladder and let your legs dangle, “You’re right.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words come out of your mouth.” He smirked, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, trying to focus on getting yourself down the ladder, “you caught me in a weak moment obviously.” 

“Be careful.” Øystein grabbed you as gently as he could by the waist and helped you the rest of the way down, immediately concerned when you started to sway a little. “Sit down.” 

You tried to wave him off and staggered towards your bed, dizzy all of a sudden. 

You plopped yourself down at the center of your mattress and immediately felt the chill without the pile of blankets. 

Øystein seemed to notice this and grabbed a few from his bed to wrap around you. You immediately pulled them tight and gave him a grateful nod. 

He poured some of the still-steaming broth into a clean-looking mug and brought it over to you, settling in next to you in an attempt to share some of his body heat. 

“Where did this come from?” You took little sips and looked up at him through your lashes. “Doesn’t look store-bought.”

“It’s not.” His cheeks warmed a little 

“My mom made it,” he confessed, looking a bit sheepish. “I told her you were sick.” 

“Your mom doesn’t even know who I am.” Your brows pulled together. “I’ve never met her, and she was willing to make me soup? That was very nice of her.” 

“I may have mentioned you once or twice,” Øystein admitted, looking away with pink cheeks. 

“Did you, now?” you raised your brow and shot him a teasing smile. “What exactly are you telling your mother about me?” 

“You tell her I’m your girlfriend or something?” 

He grimaced. 

“Øystein.” You said his name slowly, eyes wide in disbelief. “You didn’t.” 

“She just assumed, and I didn’t correct her!” He blurted out, still looking anywhere but your eyes, beyond embarrassed. 

“How long have you been pretending I’m your girlfriend?” you sounded baffled. 

“I have not been-” He started to get defensive

“How long?” You said louder, your voice hoarse. 

“Since we opened the shop,” the words poured out of his mouth despite trying desperately to keep it shut. He’d already dug himself quite a hole, but he just couldn’t stop. 

“Since we opened the shop?” you gaped at him, thoughts racing.  

“Oh, my god.” you sighed after a minute letting your head fall into your free hand “You fucking asshole.” 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry-” he started fumbling over his words, but you cut him off again. 

“Just shut up for a minute.” You waved him off. “So, you mean to tell me that your mom thinks you have a girlfriend, and she’s never asked to meet me?”

“She’s dying to meet you, actually-” 

“Øystein!” you groaned, “So you’ve made me out to be a terrible fake girlfriend, then. She probably thinks I’m dodging her and being a bitch!” 

“That’s what you’re gonna fixate on?” He relaxed a little. He expected more of a pissed off, creeped out reaction, but you sounded irritated and shocked more than anything. “We live together, lots of people assume that we’re a couple. It’s always been like that.” 

“And you haven’t been correcting any of them?” Your eyes widened, and he immediately regretted his choice of words. 

“I don’t go around telling people you’re my girlfriend,” he clarified.

“Right. You just let them think I am” You shook your head, but couldn’t help the little smirk tugging at your lips. “You really are just a big softie, aren’t you?” 

“No, I’m not.” He argued weakly, a little taken aback by the shift, “You’re not mad?” 

“I probably should be.” You shrugged, over the initial shock of it all. “I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute.” 

“Cute?” 

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “How long have I been your girlfriend in that big head of yours? Huh?” 

“Since the second I laid eyes on you,” Øystein answered without thinking. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you had to cough, careful not to spill the broth all over yourself. 

Despite his embarrassment, Øystein rubbed your back and looked down at you with concern. 

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your face once you were finished. 

“Yeah,” You sighed tiredly, but you were still smiling teasingly. “Softie.”

“Hurry up and get better.” He rolled his eyes and pulled you into his side. “There’s nothing soft about what I’m gonna do to you once you are.”

You felt your cheeks flush and your panties dampen.

Part 6

It had been you who’d convinced Øystein to step outside of his rigidity when it came to black metal. 

You’d always had a problem with the ‘poser’ mentality and took every opportunity you saw to try and coax him into broadening his customer base, even just a little bit. 

He knew you liked Pantera, and figured he could start by surprising you with some sort of heavy metal. So, he’d sent out a stack of letters to shops all over the world, although mainly in America, to see if they knew of anyone for his label. 

Eddie Munson’s tape had been the fourth demo he got back from his search, and Øystein didn’t even finish the track before starting to write back to him. 

They’d been exchanging letters for weeks. 

And this whole time, you’d been an invisible link between the two. 

What were the fucking odds?

If he wasn’t so pissed off by the universe’s sick sense of humour, he might’ve been amazed. 

But now, looking at the man he’d watched scoop you up in his arms at the train station, Øystein didn’t give a shit how well he played or sounded on tape. 

He wanted him gone. 

As far away from you as he could possibly get him. 

He opened his mouth to tell him to forget the potential of being signed, but you jumped in before he could get a word out. 

“Shut up!” You rushed over and shoved him back into the office “Don’t say a fucking word, Øystein.” 

“Sorry!” You shot Eddie an apologetic look. “Don’t leave. Just give me a minute.” 

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything either. You just ducked into the office behind the shop owner and shut the door just as quickly. 

“Øystein, if you throw his ass out just because you saw us hug, I’ll leave with him.” You jabbed a finger into his chest. “Before you knew we were friends, you liked his music enough to think about signing him. I know it feels impossible to see it that way now, but I need you to.” 

“Oh, you’d fucking love that, wouldn’t you?” He snarled, “If I kept your little boyfriend around for longer? Give the two of you a chance to reconnect?” 

“This whole possessive thing is not cute,” you spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I don’t like the Øystein that I’ve seen today. I can’t even fucking talk to you right now. Go fuck yourself!” 

On the other side of the door, Eddie awkwardly glanced from the three strangers to the door. 

The arguing on the other side of it was only a little muffled. 

“Should somebody-” Eddie started, getting a little worried when you started raising your voice. 

“They do this all the time.” Jan brushed it off. “No point getting worried until they start throwing things.” 

“Beer?” 

Before he could answer, you burst through the door, looking like you were fighting not to turn back around and strangle Øystein. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” He followed you out. 

“Elsewhere!” You lunged behind the counter to grab your bag off the floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow you fucking prick.” 

“Yeah? And where are you gonna sleep?” Øystein shouted just as loud.

Eddie was on edge, and his hands were balling up into fists at his sides. 

Nobody else seemed phased at all. 

Was this fucker yelling at you like this all the time? 

“Literally anywhere but here!” You brushed past him, making sure to bump your shoulder into his on your way past and old your middle finger over your head once your back was to him, “I’d rather sleep outside than see you again tonight!” 

You grabbed Eddie’s hand on your way past, dragging him along after you, not that he minded one bit. 

He wanted you as far away from Øystein as possible, and if you were going willingly, he’d follow you anywhere.

“You can stay with me.” He said immediately after you’d stormed across the street. “At the hotel.” 

“Thanks, Eds.” You sighed, slumping over in relief “I’m gonna kill that fucker if I have to be in a room with him in the next 24 hours.” 

“I’m sorry he’s such a dick.” You frowned, “If he even mentioned signing you to his label, he must’ve really liked your demo. I’m so sorry, Eddie.” 

“Why are you sorry?” He frowned, draping an arm over your shoulders 

“For ruining your trip.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m just glad I got to see you.” He scoffed “I dont’ give a shit whether or not he signs me. If I had to leave right now, it still would’ve been worth it.” 

You leaned into him, grateful for the familiarity. 

“Should we go to your place while he’s still at the store? Get some of your stuff for tonight?” 

“Okay, so I know you were promised a debrief, and I swear, I was gonna do it in the right order, but I’m gonna have to skip ahead a few chapters and tell you that I live in the store.” 

“With Øystein.” You added. 

“What, like there are rooms in the back?” He tried to remember the layout of the store. 

“No,” You grimaced, “that little alcove behind the counter is my bed and he’s on the top bunk.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie raked his free hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “No wonder the two of you are always at each other’s throats.” 

It was quiet for a moment before he cracked a small smile.

“Remember the summer that your parents were away and we talked them into letting you stay with me and Wayne?” 

You laughed loudly, thinking back on it. 

“I thought we were gonna kill eachother.” You chuckled, “Two kids locked in a convection oven 24/7 for a whole month, they shoulda known better.” 

“I think Wayne was about ready to kill us.” Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Think we kept him from sleeping for a week straight with our screeching.” 

“Right,” You sighed, “Imagine that, but for a year and a half straight.” 

“And it wasn’t even just him at first!” You scoffed, throwing your hands out at your sides. “When we were at the house, I had my own room, but Jan and Pelle lived there too, and there was always some kind of party going on downstairs. Never had a quiet moment for the first year.” 

“In your letters, you always made it sound like you were having fun.” He nudged you gently, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I was.” You were quick to add “God, Eddie. I really was. I still am. He just drives me insane sometimes.” 

“He yell at you like that a lot?” 

You didn’t miss the way his arm tensed around you when he’d asked. 

“Not so much anymore.” You shrugged. “I yell too. A lot.” 

“Things have actually been really good since the store opened.” You started to ramble, and Eddie just let you. “Sometimes I think that it could be something, you know? We’ve always had this back and forth, flirty then fighting, over and over again. We used to scream at eachother back at the house, but after Pelle-” 

You cut yourself off to swallow thickly. 

“It’s different,”  you frowned. “I was alone in the house when it happened. You know? Doing the dishes till I heard the gun go off.” 

He could hear the rattle in the back of your throat and veered off to the left towards a park bench. 

You didn’t speak again till you’d both sat down. 

Eddie knew better than to rush you. 

Knew that you couldn’t help but spill your guts once you really got going. 

It had always been like that between the two of you. 

Safe. 

“I knew what it was, of course I fucking did. But Eddie, I just fucking stood there for ages, frozen and trying to convince myself I’d imagined it. That someone was hunting in the woods out back.” 

“But I heard it, you know? The rifle hitting the ground after? And the dripping sounds through the door when I finally got myself up the stairs.” 

“I knew what I was walking in on, but it still knocked the fucking breath out of me.” 

“The blood.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “Jesus, Eddie. There was so much fucking blood and I just couldn’t move at first.” 

Eddie squeezed your hand. 

A silent message. 

‘I’m here.’ 

‘I’ve got you.’ 

“Øystein got home first. I guess he forgot his key, but I couldn’t hear him yelling for us outside, so he climbed in through his window.” You cleared your throat. “Found me in Pelle’s room, blood all over my hands like I’d tried to help or something.” 

“I checked his pulse.” There was a desperate creak in your voice, but somehow, you kept the tears at bay despite the way your entire body shook from the effort. “His brain was splattered all over the ceiling, but I still checked.”

“The two of us cleaned it up after they took him. Spent hours scrubbing the walls and the floorboards. Ripping out the carpet and burning it in the yard. We were up all night, I think.”

“I dunno.” You shrugged weakly “After that, shit was different. We were closer. Had been through some crazy shit and come out on the other side of it tethered together in some way.” 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Sweetheart.” Eddie pulled you into his side and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “I can’t even imagine.” 

“I couldn’t sleep after.” You curled into him, hooking your knee over his as if getting closer to him would make it hurt less. 

And it did. 

At least a little. 

“For weeks.” You sighed scrubbing your hands over your face “It got so bad I was seeing shit and the walls were talking to me.” 

Eddie inhaled sharply, but you knew that you couldn’t look up at him without crying, so you kept your head in your hands. 

“I’ve never felt that crazy before in my entire life, Eds,” you sighed. “One night, he and Jan took me to a gig. Tried to cheer me up or something, I don’t know.” 

“I took off. Ran to a bar I knew I could pick up in and Øystein found me coked out of my fucking mind.” 

“Sweetheart…” Eddie didn’t know what to say. He was horrified that things had gotten that bad without him ever knowing. For as long as he’d known you, he’d always been your shoulder to cry on, and to think that you had no one while he was back home, wondering why you’d stopped writing, made him feel guilty despite knowing that there wasn’t anything he could’ve done differently.

“I know.” You frowned. “It was just the once, though.” 

“Anyways, he got me home and tried to wrestle what was left of it outta my hands, but there was this cat and I was screaming at it, but it wasn’t there. I just finally lost it, I guess. Was yelling for Pelle like he was in the room, and maybe he was, I can’t remember.”

“Øystein talked me down.” You told him, finally looking at your best friend, “He picked up the pieces and dragged me to bed every night to make sure I was sleeping. Watched me eat to make sure I was taking care of myself. He and Jan, I don’t know where I’d be right now if I didn’t have them.” 

“I wish you’d called me,” Eddie looked a little pained. “I would’ve dropped everything to come out here. You know I would.” 

“I think that’s why I couldn’t.” You smiled sadly, “You were finally getting somewhere with the band like you’d always wanted.”

“Where is the band?” Your brows pulled together when you finally realized that it was strange for Eddie to be here by himself if he was conducting Corroded Coffin business. “They didn’t come with you?” 

“I’m a solo artist now, sweetheart.” Eddie told you, “The boys went off to college and I just couldn’t let go, I guess.” 

You opened your mouth to ask why he didn’t tell you, but shut it just as quickly. 

He would have if you hadn’t dropped all communication. 

“I’m sorry,” you frowned. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, “it’s really not so bad. Almost got signed by myself.” 

The ‘almost’ hurt your heart. 

He probably would have been signed if it weren’t for you. 

Øystein wouldn’t have gotten all territorial, and Eddie could-

“I already know what you’re thinking.” Eddie pulled you from your thoughts before you could get too lost inside your head. “Stop. It’s not your fault.” 

“If I-” 

“Nope.” 

“Eds- 

“No, no, not a chance am I letting you finish that.” he stood and dragged you along. “Let's go get something to eat, and you can tell me all the good parts of your time here.” 

You sighed in defeat and let him drag you to the closest pub. 

I don’t think that Øystein would be great at dealing with you being on your period. At least, not at first. It would take him a few tries to get it right. 

It’s not that he doesn’t know anything about periods. He lived with his sister and mother for long enough to understand what was happening, but neither of them seemed to be as poorly as you when they were having their time of the month. 

The way you’d be wincing in pain, clutching your lower stomach while curled up in bed, worried him. He wouldn’t have guessed that it was your period initially, not just from looking at you. He’d think that something is very wrong and would crouch down next to the bed to check on you, brows pulled together in concern as you explained that you’re just on your period and that the cramps were always really bad on day one.

He’d want to help and would ask what you need. If you wanted tea and paracetamol, he’d run to go grab them for you. 

Sending him to the store to get you pads or tampons would be like pulling teeth, and you’d have to listen to him whining about other people seeing him in the store or walking home with them. 

All it would take is you giving him an annoyed, tearful look, and he’d fold like a lawn chair. The only thing that Øystein hates more than seeing you cry is being the reason for your tears. So, he’d surrender and rush out the door, then back in once he realizes that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be getting

You’d laugh and show him you’re current, almost empty box. He’d spend a full minute staring at it, examining every inch of the box before nodding and heading out after a quick peck on your forehead, glad you hadn’t started crying. 

When he came back, he’d be hiding the box inside his jacket, looking like he was trying to smuggle it into your shared apartment along with some stray treats he’d picked up for you while he’d been at the store. I can see him just dumping it all into your lap while you sit on the couch, chuckling at him. 

Øystein would go grab you anything you need, but you’d probably have to ask for it. I think that after a while, he would get the hang of things and just know what to do and when, but it would probably take him a few tries, so you’ll have to be patient with him. 

One thing you’ll never have to ask him for in any context is to cuddle. This man is wrapped around you all day, every day, at least when it’s just the two of you. He’ll curl up in bed with you and hold you in whatever position is comfortable, running his thumb over your skin lightly. While pressing his lips to the crown of your head or the back of your bare shoulder, checking in every few minutes with soft murmurs.. 

“I’m doing it.” Øystein burst in through the door, startling both you and Jan enough that you yelped. “I found the perfect location!” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you held a hand over your still racing heart before turning to Jan “What the fuck is he talking about?” 

“The store.” He reminded you both, looking at you like you’d lost your minds. “I found a spot to rent.” 

“Oh,” your brows pulled together, then shot up when your eyes widened. “Oh! That’s great!” 

“Hell yeah!” Jan cheered from the couch across from you. 

You all sat there looking excited until you were just kind of staring at eachother

“Now what?” You asked, unable to help the little spark of excitement deep in your chest. 

“Bunk beds?” you looked at the arrangement behind the counter skeptically. “I don’t know Øystein. We’re already at each other’s throats half the time, and we have our own rooms, plus Jan to referee.” 

“It’s not that bad.” He rolled his eyes. “You could work in the shop and not pay rent.” 

“I would have zero privacy!” you argued, “If everyone’s hanging out here all the time, it wouldn’t even really be my space.” 

“Unless I can have the top bunk.” you tried to negotiate, but were immediately shut down. 

“Not gonna happen.” Øystein scoffed. “I’ll get you a curtain.”

“This place doesn’t even have a kitchen.” 

“It’s not like we cook anyway.” 

“There isn’t a fridge.” 

“I’ll get one.” 

“What about all my stuff?” 

“You don’t have that much stuff.” 

“We’re gonna kill each other.” 

“Probably.” 

“I’m not working seven days a week. That’s fucked up.” 

“Six.” 

“Five.” 

“Fine.” 

“And I don’t want to be in charge of feeding us anymore. The shop owners are watching me when I go in. They're onto me.” 

“I think you’re paranoid, but sure.” 

“I still think this is going to end terribly.” 

“Are you in, or not?” 

“Yeah, I’m in.” 

An hour later, the two of you were dragging your belongings inside and hauling a mattress and a half in through the door with Jan’s help. 

The full mattress went on the top bunk. 

You’d sawed yours in half so you could have a little bit more room down there. You shoved it up against the wall and dropped a beanbag and a small table across from it. 

Øystein brought in a little TV and a VCR and set them both down on the table without a word before throwing all of his loose clothes onto his bunk. 

You bit back a grin and stacked your sketchbooks next to it. 

By the time you’d had finished arranging your belongings and stringing up the macabre windchimes you and Pelle had made on your first night in the house, it was dark out and Øystein had spent most of the day rearranging shelving for the merchandise, leaving you to unpack while he blared music through the overhead speakers. 

You laid on the mattress, staring at the bottom of Øystein’s bunk, and thought that it wasn’t so bad. It was kind of cozy down there with your little TV and your Bass propped up in the corner. Your jewelry was laid out on the windowsill, and your clothes were neatly folded on shelves at the foot of your bed.

It almost felt like a bedroom.

“Are you done?” Øystein called out to you after turning down the music, standing in the centre of the store with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, pulling yourself to your feet so you could join him. 

“What do you think?” He asked, looking almost hesitant to ask for your opinion. “Everything’s getting delivered tomorrow, and I think we can get this place up and running in time to open on Friday.” 

“I think it looks great.” You smiled, glancing around at the empty but nicely arranged shelves. 

He’d painted all the walls and the ceiling black before even showing you the space, and the sign had been put up the day before. 

It was really starting to come together. 

“Really great.” You added, looking up at him, “It’s really cool that you figured out how to get all this shit together.” 

“Are you hungry?” He asked suddenly, looking anywhere but your eyes and afraid that you’d see just how much your praise was affecting him. 

“I guess.” you shrugged. 

“Wanna go somewhere?” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” You teased, very much sure that he wasn’t. 

“You put me in charge of food,” he rolled his eyes, despite the warmth creeping up the back of his neck. 

“That’s true,” you nodded appreciatively. “Follow-through on day one is pretty impressive.” 

“Whatever,” He scoffed, knocking your shoulder with his own. “Go get a jacket, it’s fucking freezing.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off and went to look for one. 

“You’re not gonna lock the door?” You frowned when the two of you stepped out onto the curb. 

“When have we ever locked the door?” He scoffed 

“You mean when we lived in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?” you squinted at him. “If I was walking around and saw an unattended, unlocked store, I’d strip that shit down to the studs.” 

“Okay, fine.” He raised his hands in surrender before digging through his pockets and procuring a single, loose key. “Gonna have to make more of these.” 

“You’re gonna lose it before you get anywhere.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Then you take it.” He slapped it into your palm when he was finished locking up. His fingertips lingered against your skin, and he contemplated lacing your fingers together for a moment. “Just don't wander off.” 

“I’ve never wandered off!” you gasped in mock offence “I’m not a child.” 

“Fine, you run off then.” He corrected himself, still standing there with his hand hovering over yours, “On purpose.” 

“Not for no reason.” 

‘What? Do I need to hold your hand?” 

“Are you offering?” 

Øystein looked a little stunned, staring down at you and the mischievous glint in your eye. There was something challenging in your gaze. 

Not wanting to be the one who backed down, he grabbed your hand and started walking. 

You chuckled under your breath, struggling to keep his pace. 

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