Rory Culkin One-shots / Imagines

🩵Such small hands | Euronymous

prompt: Euronymous opens up to you about his friends suicide.
Tw: talks of self-harm and suicide.
Longer one bc yeah
—

Euronymous and I always had been close. Ever since I joined his band, we had been the closest. He likes to try to say he doesn't have any friends, but I'm his friend, and he's mine.

I joined the band after dead killed himself. I didn't particularly like that they turned their friends' death into something that could bring them fame. However, it wasn't my business. He wasn't my friend.

Euronymous and I were at his apartment, watching Evil Dead. I swear he's watched this movie at least five times. He practically had the entire movie memorized.

We both sat on his couch, his eyes glued to the TV. I occasionally glanced over to him. Something was wrong.

"What's on your mind?" I'd ask.
He would just brush it off, but I could still tell something was up with him. I wondered what was going through his pretty mind.

He seemed to only get worse. Maybe he was paranoid about the cops coming on to him. But I doubt that they'd even look for Euronymous specifically.

He let out a sigh and said, "I killed him. I did it."
"Who did you kill?" I'd ask. More intrigued than ever.
"I didn't kill him, but I suggested he'd do it— dead.." His sentence trailed off, and tears flowed from his eyes
"You suggested he shot himself?" I grabbed his shoulder.
"I did-"

"Then it wasn't your fault, Øystein. You couldn't have known he was going to do that.. I can't lie to your face and say that your music isn't fucked up but that's the entire point. You can't blame yourself for someone else's actions or else you're going to blame yourself forever." I let go of his shoulder and looked back at the TV screen, then back at Euronymous. 

"Yeah.. I guess you're right." He'd sniffle and then wipe his nose. "But I should've seen it coming. When he cut himself on stage. We had to tape up his arms after that."

"You knew Dead had some problems, but you didn't know he would take it that far." I said. I wasn't really sure how to comfort him or sympathize with him as I obviously haven't gone through this.

"But he would've wanted this, right?" His voice started to break. "He would've wanted his dead body to be on an album cover. He willingly cut himself on the stage for attention." He would stand up and walk in front of me. "So why does everyone keep calling me fucked up?"

I tried my best to stay calm. "Because they didn't know him like you knew him. You were his best friend."

"I don't have any friends." He would stare at the TV.

"That is such a bullshit lie, Øystein. You know that, too. Just because it's your edgy facade doesn't mean you have to constantly act like it. Besides, you and I are friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess we are." He didn't move his eyes from the TV but sat down next to me, even closer than before.

"Now, don't worry about that. Your friend is dead. Honor that. Keep him in your heart. That's why you wear his skull, isn't it?"

He would just shrug.
—
(fin.)