Their first kiss was not exactly the most enjoyable experience. His beard scratched against his chin, and his lips tasted of alcohol. He pressed himself against the other body, fingers in brown hair, his eyes suddenly warm and welcoming. He felt wanted, even when the younger man pulled away first and watched the other man's eyes blink as he grinned. Pickles the drummer slung an arm around Toki's shoulder, and dragged him off to his bedroom, whistling cheerfully. Pickles had assumed that after their first kiss, Toki would be swooning into his arms, madly and crazy in love. Instead, he told him to go buy some mouthwash, and that drinking was bad.

One evening, when Charles advised they spend the beautiful, skylit evening outside of Mordhaus, Pickles and Toki naturally went off together. Nathan decided to go to the record store and listen to that Cradle Of Filth album he'd been meaning to buy. Skwisgaar, undoubtedly, would be hanging around in the guitar shop. Murderface...well, they didn't know where Murderface would go. To some place that sold morbid crap, probably. Pickles decided to take Toki to the beach, making him close his eyes throughout the entire journey. The heat hung around like a soft blanket, and the beach was entirely deserted. They walked along grass, then Toki felt his footsteps sink a little and he realised he was stepping on sand. Finally, Pickles pulled him down to sit next to him, and he told him to open his eyes. Toki had never seen any sunset so beautiful.

Toki spent occasional nights in Pickles' room, and the two, unlike any other member of Dethklok, would talk to each other, laugh at jokes, giggle at stories, comfort each other when needed, dance, play games, watch movies, or just lie and cuddle each other. Toki was in the mood to dance, so Pickles got out his secret record collection and immediately stuck on an old favourite. Michael Jackson's Thriller. Toki was surprised at the drummer's vast collection of 80s pop, rock, and almost everything he could fathom. They were dancing about the room, pretending to be MJ himself, when Nathan burst in and just stared at the laughing musicians.

Pickles was drunk. Toki decided to make him a cup of tea. That was normal. However, in his drunk state, Pickles managed to notice a baby blue ribbon tied around Toki's left arm. He blinked, stumbled a little in his seat, and opened his numb lips to speak.

"T-Toki? Wh's dat...on yer aahhhrm?"

Toki looked down. "...it's a mementos of someones, Pickle."

Pickles expected him to shout in a rather uncharacteristic manner. Toki set down a cup of tea in front of the drummer, who reached for it and was surprised by its heat. "Of who?"

"...my father."

Toki had lost count of the weeks, months that Pickles spent in his room, emerging only for food, drink, band meetings, and hot tub time. He wouldn't let any other band member help on whatever he was doing, aside from Skwisgaar, who appeared to have vast knowledge about whatever the drummer was doing. Finally, on Toki's birthday in December, six months after Pickles began to hibernate in his room, the drummer emerged. He was watching cartoons when Pickles's hand tapped him on the back.

"He-appy birthday, Toki!" he grinned, rushing to the sofa and picking up a guitar Toki had never seen. It was a Flying V, and Toki immediately realised that Pickles had built it all by himself. It still smelt of paint, but was dry, and the guitarist inspected it. It looked as if a company had made it, professionally. Pickles was met by a massive hug, arms tightly wound around him.

"Pickle...oh, Pickle, t'anks you!"

He kissed his drummer again and again, not caring that his face had flecks of black paint on it.