Four
“Hey, asshole!”
“What?” Kaj pinched the cymbal so it stopped ringing.
“It’s the fifth time I’ve called you. Where the hell are you?” Xander gestured to his head.
“The fuck?” Kaj grumbled, leaving his drumsticks on the floor tom. “What’s with the attitude?”
“You’re one to talk about an attitude.”
Xander was a peacemaker, but right now, as he stood there with his arms crossed, something told Kaj he better behave if he didn’t want him to snap his neck. He definitely could, considering he was built like a fucking bull.
“What do you mean?”
“Really? You need me to explain how you’ve been a complete pain in the ass for the past two weeks?”
He wasn’t wrong, but if he expected Kaj to apologize, he could sit and wait.
“So what?”
“ So what ?” Xander’s nostrils flared. “We have a month and a half left before flying to America. We’re supposed to film the live session this weekend. We don’t have time to find someone else.”
“I told you I didn’t want that dude here.”
“So you just behave like a jackass?” Xander narrowed his green eyes at Kaj. “For whatever reason, it’s uncomfortable for you having him around, but seriously, what’s so bad about him? Because he’s talented, kind, and patient as fuck. I would have already punched you in the throat if you talked to me the way you talk to him.”
Kaj shrugged. “Fair.”
“You know, Aksel’s right. You’re acting up. You’ve always been so laid-back that if I didn’t know you, I’d think you don’t care about anything. Other than panic, when that stalker turned your life upside down, I’ve never seen these extremely emotional reactions from you.” Xander’s brows knitted together. “I didn’t wanna push it and be a pain in the ass because I hate meddling in people’s personal shit, but… are you using again?”
“What the fuck? No!”
“What’s wrong then? Talk to me.”
Kaj didn’t answer, simply stared back at Xander as if they were in some kind of match—whoever blinked first would lose. This man had all his gratitude, respect, and admiration. The way he’d helped Kaj, being there whenever he called him when he was going through withdrawal, putting up with his mood swings, and never asking for anything in return, was unmatched. Even with the many times Kaj had relapsed, he still had faith in him. But he was cornering him right now, and he didn’t like that one bit.
“None of your business,” Kaj barked, making Xander’s bearded jaw twitch. He had a death wish after all.
“ None of my business? ” Xander repeated, anger laced in his tone. “When you fuck with the stability of the band, it is my business. What did he do that got your panties twisted so bad? He can’t be homophobic if you had a thing, right? Is he racist? Misogynist? Part of some fucked up cult where they sacrifice goats or something?”
The bassist was compassionate and understanding, but he’d never been one to sugarcoat things or treat you with delicacy when you acted like a rabid animal.
“No.”
“Is he somehow related to your addiction, or did he hurt you in any way?”
“No.” Kaj cracked his neck to the side to ease part of the disgusting sensation biting at him.
“Did he, I don’t know, kick your dog? Piss on your family’s grave?”
Kaj clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. “No.”
“Then what the fuck, dude?” Xander threw his hands in the air.
“Just trust me on this one.”
“Trust you with what, exactly? You’re being cryptic as fuck.”
Xander let himself fall on the couch with a huff, giving Kaj time to answer, but he didn’t know what to say without saying too much or sounding childish. The guys knew about how he’d lost his dad, but he’d never mentioned anything about what had happened afterward or about Noah. Like the good, compulsive liar Kaj was, he’d lied about why he didn’t have a relationship with his stepmother before she died. He had lied about the real reason he loathed his stepbrother. He’d lied about it all. Other than his psychologist, only Mads knew the truth.
Kaj wanted it to stay that way. In a petit comité . He didn’t need his bandmates looking at him like he was some poor, damaged thing. If he explained his real motives for not wanting Noah around, he’d have to put them in context, tell them everything . And that was not happening. As for Mads, well, after finding Kaj full of meds and with his wrist sliced open when they were eighteen, the least he deserved was a VIP seat for the premiere of his trainwreck of a life.
“Look,” Xander started when Kaj didn’t answer his previous question, which he honestly didn’t remember. His brain was malfunctioning with so much emotional stimulation these days. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.” He sank into the couch. “I’m really not gonna force you to, but you need to get over the rivalry or whatever it is, and focus on the upcoming tour.”
Rivalry? Not quite. Kaj didn’t enjoy taking center stage, but he hated being the runner-up, always after Noah. That much was true. While he didn’t care about whether strangers he didn’t give a fuck about liked him or not, something inside of him demanded constant recognition.
He’d worked on this with his psychologist. Apparently, his insecurities and self-loathing were wrapped in narcissistic traits that clouded his reasoning sometimes. It was like a switch he flipped at will to protect himself. But with Noah, it was always on. That man had this ability to act so innocent while seamlessly getting under Kaj's skin, he couldn’t help it. He craved his pain as much as he used to crave his touch.
Still, Xander was right.
“I’ll try to be nicer to him.”
“It wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“So… anyway, is there any news about Emil’s situation now that the entire world knows?” Kaj veered the conversation in a completely different direction. He was tired of Noah this, Noah that, and Noah fucking everywhere.
Xander heaved a sigh. “Not really. The media is still going wild about it. I hope it fades after the announcement of our new vocalist and the first concert with him.”
Again. “Yeah...”
“This shit is exhausting. The amount of messages I’m getting—I’m sure you, too—is absurd. I’m so close to shutting down all my social media accounts…”
“Same.”
Silence settled between them for a few minutes as they stared into the space from opposite corners of the room.
Xander was sprawled on the couch, an elbow resting on the armrest. Kaj was just there, sitting on his stool, contemplating getting himself a new pair of Vans, since these were so worn out.
Suddenly, the images of a night the entire band got drunk as skunks and started comparing their misfortunes, making fun of themselves, flashed in Kaj’s mind. Xander and the car accident where he lost his girlfriend and unborn baby. Aksel and his run-ins with the law when he sold his body for money while underage. Kaj and the utter mess his life was after he emancipated at seventeen. He almost laughed out loud at how dysfunctional they were—another reason the pretty boy didn’t fit within this group. Noah’s family never had a lot of anything, but they had love, support, and respect. No amount of money could buy any of that.
“Who died?” Aksel asked when he entered.
“You’re about to,” Kaj snapped. “Why are you so damn late?” He frowned at Noah, who walked in behind the guitarist.
“My fault,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Of course.” Kaj rolled his eyes.
“Shut up,” Aksel said as he took his coat off. “He was being a good son.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Noah glared at Kaj. “My mom needed help, and I wasn’t going to make it in time, so I called Aksel.”
Kaj’s mouth twitched.
“It’s alright.” Xander got up and straightened his back. “Let’s get to it.”
“Before we start,” Aksel said, putting his guitar strap over his shoulder. “Wrath ov Gods are having a birthday party for Bjorn next Friday and they asked if we’re coming.”
Kaj and Bjorn had played together when the drummer joined Poisoned Letters—a pretty cringe emo name for a group inspired by Anthrax, if you asked him. Though it wasn’t like he had any say on that matter since he was the newcomer and the band had been created when the others were fifteen. A couple of years after Kaj left, though, the rest of the guys parted ways, too. As far as he knew, most had gone in a completely different direction, but Bjorn chased his passion, joining this Scandinavian symphonic black metal band with a base in Malmo.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Xander said. “That dude’s birthdays are legendary.”
“They are.” Aksel chuckled. “What about you, Noah?”
“Me? I don’t know them...”
“That’s not a problem. They’re actually eager to meet you.”
Noah quirked a brow and a faint smile curled the side of his mouth. “In that case, I’m in, yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out.”
“How so?”
Noah hesitated momentarily, flaring a spark of interest in Kaj, before he said, “Since I came back from the UK, all I’ve done is work. And now that I’m finally living by myself, I’m still trying to get a hang of all this adulting shit.”
Kaj glanced at his bandmates as they fell into a comfortable conversation while Noah spilled some more details about his life—working as a producer until he came back to Denmark, recording his own material, helping at some tattoo studio in the city, yada, yada, yada. The drummer didn’t care. They were supposed to be practicing.
“Understandable. Hopefully, you won’t need to work yourself to exhaustion every day after this tour.” Xander smiled.
Noah chuckled. “Here’s hoping.”
“Ah! This is great!” Aksel exclaimed. “It’s been so long since we’ve all gone out together. ’Cause you’re also coming, right?” This time, the question was directed to Kaj.
“Not sure.”
Kaj had been sober for five months—his fourth attempt at getting clean. It wasn’t easy to be surrounded by the people he used to drink with, in the places he’d seen blurry more times than not. The smells. The sounds. The sensations. He didn’t trust himself after failing so many times.
Addiction is not a choice someone consciously makes, but a compulsion, a chronic disease. An urge to grasp a state you can’t experience if you aren’t floating in that lethargic euphoria. Some people drink and fool around with drugs and nothing happens, but for others, it doesn’t work that way. For those with unresolved traumas, sometimes being numb is their only escape.
In the beginning, Kaj hadn’t needed much to get to the point where his body filled with so much dopamine he thought he was happy. But, over time, his tolerance to the original dose increased, and he started seeking stronger trips. He stopped caring about the consequences, people, limits, and even himself. All that mattered was getting his fix. Without realizing, he was trapped in an abyss that stole everything he’d ever been.
Purgatory probably felt like heaven compared to that place inside his mind when the cocaine high faded and alcohol was still flooding his system.
“Oh, shit. I didn’t—”
“Shut up.” Kaj cut Aksel off right away.
His problem was public knowledge; images of the day he was admitted into rehab were all over the internet. Not that you needed to be Sherlock Holmes to notice—Kaj had looked like a raccoon straight out of a dumpster most days before that. But there was no need to talk about his issues. Not in front of Noah.
“I’ll think about it,” Kaj said, gesturing with his drumsticks to the middle of the room. “Shall we?”
That Noah got along with Xander and Aksel as if they’d known each other forever when it had been just a month wasn’t what bothered Kaj the most. However, playing a filmed live session so they had some decent material to introduce the new member to their audience… That was a different thing. A very real and permanent thing.
Kaj hated it. More so when he couldn’t glare at Noah because the makeup artist was trying to conceal the dark circles under his eyes. Good luck with that, sweetheart .
The vocalist was chitchatting and laughing with Val, who was the band's photographer and videographer since the previous guy started his own studio in the city five years ago. Kaj knew they’d never stopped talking when Noah moved to the UK, just like he talked with Theo from time to time, even though he lived in Australia. They’d probably been hanging out since Noah came back, too, but Val knew better than to mention that man in front of Kaj, so he couldn’t confirm it. But it riled him that Noah was slowly taking over his entire life and every person in it.
Kaj let out a sigh and glanced to the right as the makeup girl made sure his skin wasn’t too shiny.
The static cameras and lighting were already in place, making the usual grunge style of this space feel cozy. Artificial Suicide’s crew had been working on it the day before, from sunrise to sunset. They used the musicians as stand-ins to set up the stage, check the equipment was working correctly, and experiment with angles, illumination, and dramatic effects they wanted to include in the video. Val didn’t even need to ask the group about the vibe or what they wanted to convey through their performance. He knew better than them how to capture and sell what they did.
“Okay, guys,” Val said, motioning them to come closer to him. “We already discussed the plan yesterday, so just take a deep breath, go in there, and do what you do best.”
“Let’s go!” Aksel walked over to the stool prepared for him and grabbed his guitar.
Xander put the strap of his bass over his shoulder and gave Kaj a warning look as he sat behind the drums. He didn’t care about those silent threats, though. Kaj had agreed to behave, and he intended to—everyone had been working too hard to make this happen. But even if he ended up snapping at Noah and earned himself a Bruce Lee flying kick in the face from the bassist, it was fine. His life since Noah had inserted himself in it felt like he was trying to stand on a hammock all the time, equally dangerous and stupid. One more hit wouldn’t make that much of a difference.
Stray notes flew as they did one last soundcheck that served as a quick warm-up. It sounded like a drunken fair orchestra until, without sharing a word, Kaj tapped his drumsticks three times, and the chords of “Perennial” filled the room.
Save for Noah, the other three had been doing this for years. They were perfectly synchronized. Knew how to read each other to the point it felt intrusive sometimes. One look could hold a conversation no one else would understand. When they played together, it was as if the stars aligned, and magic happened.
Two camera guys were moving around inside the circle the musicians had created, filming them. A close-up of the drumsticks while Kaj softly hit the snare and hi-hats. Xander’s fingers plucking the most fluid and steady groove. Aksel’s pick smoothly strumming through the strings of his guitar. Noah… Fucking Noah .
His voice was immaculate, keeping a perfect cadence and tone as it weaved through the notes. Kaj had to admit that the way he meshed with the melody was bewildering, beautifully so.
One, two, three. One, two, three, four. One, two, three. One, two, three, four.
Kaj hadn’t needed to keep track of his moves or the metronome in ages, but with this man standing across from him in the room under the warm, slightly dimmed light, it was hard to focus. As usual, he was dressed in full black—boots, jeans with a chain attached to the belt, and a plain basic tee—but his aura today seemed different.
Confident. Relaxed. Daunting. He grazed and grabbed the pole of his microphone stand, changing the amount of pressure in time with his voice as he added more strength into a syllable, sustained the end of a word, or let out a breathy note. The way emotions screamed through his non-verbal language made Kaj’s stomach churn and his pulse speed up. He didn’t know what it was or why it was happening, but everyone else in the room faded out.
As they reached the first interlude, Kaj’s hands slightly trembled, which made the ghost notes alternated with rim clicks on the snare trickier than they should have been.
Then Aksel stepped on his pedal and his guitar roared, announcing the shift in the song right before Noah’s clean vocals roiled into brutal growls.
Crash and bass, crash and bass, bass, crash, snare, and bass .
A thrill zigzagged down Kaj’s spine. The control Noah had to project those kinds of sounds was fucking unorthodox. It pulled Kaj’s strings like a puppeteer, dragging him through the mud and forcing him to acknowledge things he didn’t want to admit, like how beautifully destructive his gaze was when their eyes locked.
Oxygen.
Heat.
Noah briefly bit his bottom lip.
Something combusted inside Kaj’s chest, triggering a rippling effect throughout his body.
Kaj hit the snare too hard. Fuck!
Frowning, he looked down at his hands, deliberately leaving Noah out of sight. He was supposed to be the backbone, the one guiding and controlling the rest through the piece. He couldn’t let this man affect him so much, no matter how fast his heart galloped or how uneasy he felt right now.
One, two, three. Ride and bass, ride, bass, ride and tom, bass .
Kaj’s breaths were shallow and erratic by the time they finished the bridge, almost choking on his own saliva when the outro hit.
Even though this was a live session, there was no way they would upload anything online without a little post-production and video editing. So, Noah had suggested he could sing this part as it was intended originally, then repeat it in several styles in the studio for them to overlap the different layers. He’d said it would add more texture to what was already a tremendous end. But fuck it if this wasn’t the best this track had ever sounded.
Noah’s ability to toggle between the deepest gutturals and clean vocals was mind-blowing, no matter how many times you heard him sing. Yet his belting notes today made goosebumps rise all over Kaj's skin. Maybe it was the atmosphere in the room, the dampness starting to break on his back, or that his brain was floating in a lagoon of pure ecstasy, but he didn’t own himself anymore. Not when Noah growled before sliding into a harrowing closing snarl.
As they repeated the song a few more times to have different camera angles to choose the best, snaking through guitar riffs and bass licks, Kaj abandoned himself to the rhythm.
Why fight something that was pulling from him with such force?
Why fight something that made him feel so fucking good?