#postklok

Hello, How Are You

It had taken him years to come here because, really, he wasn’t a dumb kid anymore. With time and therapy, he’d outgrown the idea that his love and existence was so flawed that it destroyed anyone he cared for. 

Ironically, he now stood on the doorstep of the man who had first made him believe that, simply by being the first to be left standing. 

Toki checked the paper in his hand for probably the tenth time, wondering if he had misread Pickles’ messy scrawl — the house was just so ordinary. He had lived this way himself for decades now, of course, but somehow hadn’t expected it in connection with today, with the man he was hoping to see. It was only one story and modestly sized, with a bay window looking into a sparse but cozy living room. The yard was filled with ornamental grasses instead of a classic lawn and had a winding stone path through blooming roses and perennials. Real colors, when he tended to remember the place’s owner exclusively in grayscale and blond, as so much of their life had been back then. A part of him regretted ringing the doorbell as soon as he did it, but the sound of guitar arpeggios echoing through the house made the corner of his mouth twitch. 

Little touches, like that and the miniature wolf statue peering watchfully out from amidst the bushes by the door, assured him yes, Skwisgaar did live here. 

As Toki waited for someone to come to the door, absently twisting the wedding band he still wore, he heard the thumps and whines of various dogs jostling around inside. A muffled voice scolded them briefly and then the door swung open to reveal the same Skwisgaar that he remembered, black shirt and faded jeans and all, except for the silver at his temples and the lines that had crept into his face around the eyes. 

“Oh. Uh,” Skwisgaar said, staring. 

That was as far as he got before three huskies swarmed out from behind his legs. They milled around Toki’s legs, nosing at his hands and crotch inquisitively — so unruly compared to the golden lab mixes Abby’d had over the years, but those had all been well-trained service dogs. At least no one was trying to jump up and lick his face. 

“Nej, gets back heres you dumb goofballs...” Skwisgaar shooed the dogs back inside before shooting him a look that was both sheepish and curious. “Sorry. They gets, uh, pretty exciteds when people comes by. Don’t gets a lot of visitors here, you knows.” 

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to find.” His mouth felt so dry. Why was his mouth so dry? He also felt unaccountably stupid showing up in a button down shirt and khakis like this was some sort of job interview or something. Toki rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, wondering if this was how Skwisgaar had felt during that one visit years ago, so... thrown, by memories versus reality. 

They stood in awkward silence for a moment until Skwisgaar cleared his throat, still trying to hold back the tide of dogs. “So, you wants to come ins or something? I could meet you arounds on the back porch if you don’ts want to deals with these dildoes.” 

“Oh, it’s fines,” Toki said, then felt his face redden at the slip. All those years of Leah helping him with his English, the kids playfully teasing and correcting him on the occasional misplaced a plural or mispronunciation, apparently didn’t hold up to facing this fragment of his past. “I mean, I don’t mind dogs, as long as they don’t try to hump my leg or anything.” 

“That... Well.” Skwisgaar shuffled backwards, grabbing onto the collar of one of the huskies. “I just puts him in the music room for yous. The others am okays, come on ins.” 

Toki followed him inside, pulling the door shut behind himself and looking around. The entryway was fairly bare, just white walls and dark wood floors, about what he would have expected. “So you still play? I wasn’t sure, after you stopped doing that masterclass thing.” 

“Oh, you watched that?” Skwisgaar called back distractedly from deeper inside the house. 

“Luke did, when he was learning guitar.” Toki couldn’t help smiling a little, with no one there to see. “He got into metal for a while after he saw some pictures of me from the old days. I think it was the long hair. He never did want to cut his short.” 

There was the sound of a door slamming, and then the lanky blond reappeared with the remaining two dogs crowding at his heels. “Wasn’ts all you had was girls, last time I heards?” 

“Oh... Sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t know.” Toki shrugged. “He changed his name from Leah Jr. to Luke before college. It’s not a big deal. The hormone therapy is going really well, he’s starting to grow a beard now. It’s coming in the way mine did though, remember that time I tried growing it out? And it came in all patchy? I told him he might be better off with just a mustache, but who knows if he’ll listen to me, I’m just his dad or whatevers.” 

It occurred to him that he was rambling and that Skwisgaar was giving him a weird look — not one of the looks that meant Toki would have to punch him in the face in defense of his son, just one that wanted to point out they hadn’t spoken in almost fifteen years but, like, didn’t at the same time. It was an unexpectedly hopeful look, shuttered away after an instant as though it hadn’t been meant to be seen, and the implications tugged unpleasantly on Toki's insides. His mouth snapped shut and he followed the other man down the hall into a spacious and, again, mostly white living room. He could see a river winding past through the sliding glass door on the other side of the room. It was nice. 

“Have a seats, huuueeeeuuugghhhh, anywheres,” Skwisgaar said into the awkward silence, gesturing to the white couch. Or, the mostly white couch with a liberal dusting of husky hair on it, even in places where Toki wouldn’t have thought a dog that size could or would climb. It was probably also the reason there weren’t any of the plush fur throw rugs Toki remembered him preferring. “You want some coffee or anythings?” 

“No, I’m fine thanks.” 

“Okay. Uhhhhh... Anyways, ja, I plays,” he continued while Toki made himself comfortable. “Don’t really does much with its now, but sometimes Nathan wants a thing written for ones of those shows he ams working ons, he gives me a calls, Charles sends the checks in the mails, all thats. But it ams, you knows. A goods hobby.” Once his guest sat down in a tall but well-padded easy chair, he took the couch and immediately had two dogs happily vying for control of his lap. “What abouts you?” 

Toki looked down at his hands. “I still play sometimes. More since the kids all left home, but less than... since Leah.” 

Skwisgaar sighed. “I heards about that. Thoughts about going to pays my respects, but...” He gave a pained grimace that was, maybe, intended to be an apologetic smile. “Didn’ts really knows her, and Pickle tolds me it was probablies not the best ideas.” 

“Oh,” Toki said blankly. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Pickles had never mentioned Skwisgaar wanting to come to the funeral.  But would he have remembered if he had? That had been, to put it mildly, a bad time. Juggling all the funeral arrangements, hospital bills, and suddenly being a single parent to a teenager and two preteens — it had been a lot. He’d barely kept it together for the first few years, and still felt bad that Juliette had taken it upon herself to help look after her siblings and grown up so much so quickly. 

“...You lets your hair grows out somes,” Skwisgaar blurted out. 

“I did,” Toki agreed, grateful for the change of subject. He swished his fingers through it, a fall of brown that came down to around his chin, just like when they’d first met. “Two girls and a gender fluid kid in the house, we used to have some wild hairdo parties, let me tell you.” He laughed. Kind of forced, but close enough to real. “And it worked out. Juliette is doing really well in cosmetology school.” 

“That’s greats, Toki.” 

The smile on Toki’s face was a brittle one. He was proud of his kids — hell, proud of himself for producing three non-fucked up human beings, considering his own bleak childhood, homeless adolescence, and raucous early adulthood. Things really had turned out for the best. 

Mostly. Because while he’d had a loving, supportive partner to help lay the groundwork for his wonderfully normal new life, it hadn’t turned anything like what he’d imagined. She’d died and he’d found out that there were even worse things than having his heart broken, like having to decide whether to keep all of her old things around as a constant, heart-stabbing reminder or carrying overflowing boxes out to the curb past his crying children, pleading to hold onto the memories of their mother. Impossible choices. 

The conversation had hit another lull, both of them just looking at each other over a canyon of decades. 

“So,” Skwisgaar said awkwardly, “why... ams you decided to visit todays? Nots that I minds the companies,” he added quickly, unwilling to drop the strained pretense of gracious host. Clearly he didn’t want to be as blunt as Toki had been when he’d visited, all those years ago. No attempt had been made to flaunt his carefree, unattached lifestyle out here in the countryside, with no neighbors for miles and no real obligations to speak of save for occasional songwriting favors. He hadn’t gone for the jugular with, to name an example completely at random, a #1 Guitarist mug. 

Toki’s smile cracked. On the couch, the two dogs raised their heads and looked at him inquisitively, approximately one second before he sucked in a breath like a man afraid of drowning and sank his face into both hands. For a long time he’d been able to keep his old life and live locked up tight, separate from his newly constructed family. He’d stopped discussing it in therapy years ago, long enough that his therapist never thought to bring it up anymore. Long enough that he hadn’t realized the parallels for a long time. 

And it all came pouring out a torrent of word vomit that tasted all the more bitter for how long he’d been holding it in. A family of five? The way Leah had died, carving a chunk of his life big enough to leave him broken — what was he supposed to do, let it? And then the kids moving out. Little Abby had been the first to go and the last he had expected to lose so soon, a blow out of nowhere just like Murderface lapsing without warning into a coma. Luke had developed new interests, decided on a far more ambitious musical ambitions than his old man, and gone off to school at a fabulous conservatory half way across the globe, echoing Nathan’s departure for new and interestingly brutal pursuits. Juliette, like Pickles, had stuck around the longest, but now she was finally getting into cosmetology full time and living with her girlfriend, fostering an endless stream of troubled kids that the system had failed because her heart was just that goddamned big. There were visits, and phone calls, and occasionally even meeting up for lunches or dinners, but they had their own separate lives to get back to. Toki had... nothing. Just like after Dethklok. 

Nothing but this ghost from his past who, before he realized what was happening, was kneeling in front of his chair and pulling him into a rough hug. Toki let himself be pulled. The dogs crowded around him and licked helpfully at the tears and snot boiling out of him before it could land on Skwisgaar’s shirt, though it caught its fair share of slobber and stray fur instead. Thumps and distressed dog noises from elsewhere in the house suggested that the third had some idea of what he was missing out on and resented being excluded from it, but oh well. Special persons invite club cry-a-thon, no leg humpers allowed. 

Because Skwisgaar was crying too. First it registered as a growing dampness on his shoulder. Then Toki realized that the other man’s hands were gripped onto his shirt in big handfuls, and what had seemed like a comforting rocking motion was the Swede shaking with the effort of keeping his own tears silent and unobtrusive. 

“Skwisgaar, what’s…” More alarmed than he would have expected given his own simmering breakdown, Toki managed to disentangle himself enough to pull back and get a look at his face. There was no hope of passing it off as ‘just gettings high’ today — not that it had ever been very effective ruse, Skwisgaar was an ugly crier and always had been. “What’s wrong?” 

“Because,” came the choked up reply. “You saids you was happy. I s-stayed aways because you was happy. You didn'ts…” Skwisgaar was squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to not totally lose it, but his grip was clearly slipping. “You didn’ts deserve for it to all falls so much to shits that you comes to see me." 

“Oh…” Toki slid to the floor as though his bones had been removed and replaced with cooked spaghetti, because that was exactly it. Skwisgaar had dumped him and it had been devastating, but he’d reinvented himself, met a girl, made a new life for himself without him. 

It had taken so long to decide to come here precisely because he had been happy. Ecstatically so, and in the new life he’d made, even after Leah, there had been no room for Skwisgaar in it. But to see that Skwisgaar had known that — hell, actually respected that enough to leave him be for all these years — made him realize. 

“Skwisgaar,” Toki said, sniffling and reaching to smooth some of the other man’s tears away. Skwisgaar startled at the touch, blue eyes flying open.

“Whats?” 

“I don’t regrets anything about my family,” Toki told him earnestly, “but it was always supposed to be you.” And kissed him. 

They were both still crying so it was wet and clumsy and messy, but their lips fit together just as perfectly as Toki remembered. Sure, he’d repressed that memory for a long time, but he’d had to. 

For so long they’d been spun around in a dance of wanting different things, never on the same page, perfectly compatible but just off somehow. Then there had been Leah and it had felt impossible to reconcile those dual loves, so Toki had always told himself that his first choice had never been right or good for him. And maybe that instinct had been spot on, maybe Skwisgaar back then had been all wrong, a pentagonal peg that Toki had desperately fit into a round hole — but things had changed. So much was different now, about both of them. Here in this modest house, sitting on the floor with dogs trying their best to cheer up two idiot humans with even more slobbery kisses than the one they were currently sharing with amazed enthusiasm, they fit together in ways that was far more than just physical. It finally felt like they were on the same page, older and wiser but still head over fucking heels for each other. 

A third furry body crashed into them and Skwisgaar broke away with a cry of, “Fucksdammit Morderface, if you brokes another door you ams sleeping outskied tonights I swear to fucking Odin!” 

Toki laughed and rubbed his face on his sleeve and stood, despite the (pudgier, more blunt-nosed) husky immediately going for his leg as he did so, offering Skwisgaar a hand up that he accepted without hesitation. “You named him Murderface?” 

“Ja,” Skwisgaar said sheepishly. He didn’t let go of Toki’s hand once he was up, instead threading their fingers together. “Uh, ands the other two ams Nathan and Pickles. Makes me feel less, eughhh, lonely out heres, you knows.” 

“Huh.” Toki looked down at their entwined fingers. Smiled. Squeezed. “Just those three?”