One
January 2025
With his arms folded, Kaj slumped down in the chair and straightened his legs under the table, crossing them at the ankles. Jumbled thoughts about nothing bounced in every direction as he stared blankly ahead. He should at least pretend like he was interested in what was being said at the meeting—the band’s future was hanging by a thread—but his brain wasn’t having it.
To be fair, it was common knowledge that he had the attention span of a puppy. The lack of enthusiasm was a different topic. Just like the sarcasm that rolled off his tongue every time he opened his mouth. People liked to use flattering labels, such as insensitive , coldhearted , and psycho to refer to him. Though, it was mostly those he’d fucked, then kicked out of his bed before he lit up a cig.
It was what it was. Take it or leave it.
He hadn’t always been like this, though. Being screwed over and over again had made him grow an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that, together with other unhealthy coping mechanisms, helped him get through the day. It wasn’t the physical rigors or crazy schedules that threw him off balance. It was the ghosts of his past added to the constant pretense during events they didn’t care about.
Cynical? Absolutely. There was no way Artificial Suicide would be where it was today without the public appearances that increased the visibility of their persona. Because no matter how hard you worked or how good you were, without a proper marketing strategy and a decent fanbase, you were nothing. But as the band had grown, the expectations to concede to industry standards mounted, smothering the passion to create. All Kaj wanted was to beat the crap out of his drums until his hands bled.
Why did he have to be here? He couldn’t do anything other than nod to whatever Thorsen, the president of Arkham Records, was running on about. Kaj’s opinion didn’t matter. Not after knocking the band’s ex-vocalist down.
That asshole was famous for his excesses; sex, drugs, and destroyed hotel rooms—the epitome of a rockstar cliché. Now he had also earned the “rapist” badge.
Kaj writhed uncomfortably in his seat, making the leather squeak under his ass.
It was still only allegations of sexual misconduct, but none of the other band members wanted to be associated with a sex offender. If it was someone else, they would have believed in his presumed innocence. Some people lie; they had seen it before, especially when there’s money involved—which was harmful to the real victims—but it hadn’t been just one person reporting it, and where there’s smoke…
“Do you have anything to add?” Mr. President said.
“Uh?” Kaj’s mouth lowered at the corner in a scowl. “No,” he replied as he sat up straight, elbows on the table and hands clasped, realizing just now that his indifference to all the logistics being discussed was too obvious.
With a scolding look, Thorsen signaled for the PR manager to resume the conversation. He rambled about their carefully drafted speech to the press when it was revealed that Emil had been kicked out of the band, about the actions needed to face the response of the vocalist’s fanbase, about the Artists and Repertoire Department having found several possible new frontmen, the auditions that would be held in February so they didn’t have to cancel the upcoming concerts…
Boring.
Then it was the A everyone wanted a piece of you and there was nothing you could do about it.
Kaj wished the world knew the real him and just how mundane his life was offstage. Maybe then people would stop pretending and idealizing him.
At least he had his bandmates and their crew— his family . Being around them gave him a purpose. A reason to move forward even when living felt like he was fighting with broken bones. But sometimes, some days, something was missing. And right now, the severed fragments of him that belonged in the past were craving a disaster.
“You good?” Xander asked, a knowing glow in his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry.” Kaj nodded after taking a swig of his coffee. “I’m just sick of all the schemes and plans and lies.”
“That’s showbiz for you.” Aksel lifted a shoulder, eyes glued on his mug as his hands tightened around it.
“Do they even care about them ?” Kaj shook his head. The fact that the bigwigs were more worried about how to tackle media scrutiny when the sordid details of what Emil had done were dragged up in public than the victims made him sick.
It wasn’t that they had any issues with the record label before. Everything had been smooth from the start. The band had never been forced to hide who they were, follow trends, or make music just to sell. Their contract and royalties were fairly good, too. However, this situation proved that the machinery that moved this industry was vicious. It could chew and spit you out in seconds. At the end of the day, you were just numbers on a spreadsheet.
“I don’t know how you’ve been friends with him for so long,” Kaj blurted after a brief silence. He’d never been a fan of Emil’s immeasurable vanity, but this turned his world upside down.
“He wasn’t like that when we were in school,” Xander deadpanned. “Or when we started the band.”
“People don’t change. Not that much.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“Nothing really.”
Silence nestled at their table for a couple more minutes while soft jazz overflowed every particle in the air.
Xander didn’t sound angry, more disappointed and sad. Kaj couldn’t blame him. He’d been the last one to join Artificial Suicide when their previous drummer left, but the band had been formed five years before that. They’d been together through thick and thin for fourteen years, and one of them had broken their trust in a horrible way.
“Can we change the topic?” Aksel said.
He was usually tactless and blunt, yet he couldn’t stand it when Xander got hurt. Even though they weren’t far apart in age, the bassist had taken Aksel under his wing when he was a teen, becoming the big brother and father figure he’d never had.
“Sure...” Kaj mumbled into his mug as guilt made its way down his throat. He hated that being on the verge of a meltdown since he’d heard the pernicious news made it impossible for him to control his temper. He wasn’t like this, not with them. Didn’t intend for his words to sound like an accusation. No one was responsible for what Emil had done except himself. “I have a question, though.”
“Hm?”
“Kinda related.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where did you find this new super awesome vocalist they were talking about in the meeting?” Kaj asked, unable to hide the bitterness in his tone.
Aksel snorted, seemingly more relaxed. “You didn’t check the group chat last weekend,” he all but stated.
“Not really.” Kaj shrugged. “I only pay attention when we need to schedule a meeting or shit about recording. You share way too much shit. It’s annoying.”
Aksel rolled his eyes. “I found him on YouTube.” Fumbling with his pocket, he took out his phone, and, after typing something in it, he handed it over. “Here.”
Kaj tightened his hand on the device as his heart stopped, rib cage feeling too small to contain his organs.
It was him. Noah S?rensen .
Like a bad omen about worlds colliding, the idea of breathing the same air as him again constricted Kaj’s lungs. Yet, he couldn’t stop looking at him.
Noah’s hair was in a messy curtain style. It was way shorter than Kaj remembered, as it used to reach his waist. Tattoos were now creeping up his neck, hardening his jawline. They also adorned his upper arms, hands, and fingers. But the energy searing out of him as he sang into his mic was what sent a shiver down Kaj’s spine. Thank fuck the video was muted.
“You think he’d fit in?” he asked, eyes glued to the screen as uneasiness ate at him one bite at a time.
“He’s not just a vocalist, but an actual musician ,” Xander said. “Plays guitar, some piano, composes, and produces, too. And from what I’ve seen, he’s pretty good at everything.”
The drummer quirked a brow. He didn’t doubt his bandmate’s judgment. Kaj and Noah had played together before. He’d proved to be a natural when it came to singing. The classes he took after they decided to play some small gigs honed his skills. If he’d continued practicing all these years, improvement was the only option. But it was weird listening to Xander praise someone like this—most had to work hard to get the smallest sign of approval.
“Skill is important, but attitude is even more important,” Kaj countered. “I’ll take a weaker player who’s willing and open to learn over any stronger one with a diva mentality. A shitty personality can be a pain in the ass when we’re on the road.”
“It’s not like you were my favorite person in the world at the beginning.” Xander shrugged with a grin painted across his face.
“Love you too, asshole.”
The bassist chuckled. “Seriously, though. I think he’d be a great asset.”
“If you say so…”
It was past midnight when Kaj made it to his apartment. Losing his balance as he took off his combat boots, he got to the couch and plonked down.
The stillness of the night lingering over the river trespassed the panoramic glass wall, allowing the voices in his head to get louder.
Kaj pressed the mounds of his hands into his eyes and groaned as a familiar ache spread through his body. Sobriety sucked. Nightmares aside, he’d slept better during the last few months than he had in years, but if he had drunk his weight in whiskey tonight, he wouldn’t be all over the place right now. He’d probably throw up three days’ worth of food in the bathroom or kitchen sink, or on the terrace, but he wouldn’t be conscious.
He tossed and turned on the couch, battling the need to surrender to old habits. He’d been overwhelmed with this niggling urge before, and while this wasn’t as bad as the last time, he felt uncomfortable in his skin right now. It was too tight. But he didn’t want to fall off the wagon. The aftermath of losing himself wasn’t pretty. Having to restart for the fifth time? Yeah, no. He wasn’t doing that crap again.
Letting out an irritated groan, he lifted his hips and, with shaky hands, reached for the pack of tobacco in his pocket.
The clink of his Zippo lighter, followed by the scrape of its flint, was the only sound breaking the silence in the apartment.
Clunk, clink, clunk, clink, clunk .
Kaj relished the burning sensation crawling down his throat as he closed his eyes.
However, unlike other times, the taste of ash on his tongue didn’t appease his relentless mind. Instead, it rekindled the flame to stalk Noah online. Something he’d avoided for years.
“Fuck my life.”
Kaj held the cig between his lips as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table, where he’d dropped it before, and searched for Noah’s channel on YouTube.
376 thousand subscribers? The fuck?
Hesitant for a second, he let his thumb hover over the screen. What harm could this do? At least he’d know what to expect if Noah showed up for an audition. If he agreed to it.
Kaj scrolled down the page. There were covers of all kinds of songs, from classics to anime, collaborations with other musicians, and some videos that looked like his own material. The activity seemed to have slowed during the last few months, but Noah still uploaded something new every two or three weeks.
Tapping on the one Aksel had shown Kaj before, a conflicting wave of emotions crashed against the ridges of his brain. He pressed play, and the world outside vanished, leaving him alone with Noah.
Inside what looked like a small homemade soundproof room, standing in front of a mic, the vocalist gently bobbed his head to the cradling tempo of the recorded music. The production was so well-rounded, full, and simply amazing, Kaj got trapped immediately. Then Noah began to sing and, like lightning, electricity broke through his body.
His voice came out like a raspy whisper. Yet it was the warmth in it that threw Kaj into a trance, sinking him into a different dimension when the chorus hit.
song after another, the drummer lost track of time, only to jump into the rest of Noah’s socials later on.
Kaj hated it.
He hated his body’s reactions—the shivers, the goosebumps, the tightness in his heart.
He hated the way Noah bit his bottom lip to contain a smile when he knew he had nailed a note.
And that he looked so fulfilled.
He hated that Noah was making him feel at all.
But mostly, Kaj hated that this man was the only one capable of appeasing the constant pain in his chest.