Euronymous

Chapter Nine

T/W - mentions of SH, Alcohol/Drug use, mature themes

The cold air was refreshing. I was tired, but I put that down to how much I'd smoked. And the emotional toll of watching someone I care about harm themselves so brutally for entertainment.
Krista was slurring her words a little, giggling and flirting with Emil as they walked ahead. Aksel walked beside me, close, with his arm around my shoulders. I didn't mind, because truthfully, it was cold and it didn't mean anything to me. We walked into the Kebab shop.
Krista had insisted we come here for a late night feed before we went home, and with everyone having a case of the munchies, who was I to write off such a genius idea?
The lights stung my eyes for a moment as they adjusted. The air was filled with laughter and shouting, but my ears were still ringing from the gig. It was noisy, but still quieter than earlier. We went to the counter to order and I scanned the room.
Øystein. His back was to me, but I knew it was him.
Pelle. He sat in the chair to Øysteins left. His expression was troubled, and I followed his gaze to his arms, both resting on the table, the self-inflicted gashes barely being held together with silver duct tape.
I gasped, moving toward him, startling Aksel whose arm fell away from me.
"Pelle." It came out barely a whisper. I knelt beside him. He slowly glanced at me - his usually kind eyes were hollow, eyebrows furrowed. He looked like he was in shock.
I jumped back onto my feet. Urgency had taken over my thoughts and I hurried to the back of the shop, pulling the first aid kit from behind the counter. I could feel eyes on me as they processed what I was doing, but I didn't care. I had to help him.

I carefully and gently took Pelle's hand in mine, and was thankful when he stood up to follow me.
"Else, let me help." Øystein followed as I lead both of them into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I felt my demeanour harden. I didn't want to be emotional in front of them.
Luckily the bathroom was spacious and accessible, just one toilet, so no cubicles. I sat Pelle on the toilet, seat down and inhaled a deep breath before looking down to examine how bad the wounds were. Dried blood covered most of his pale skin. The tape was stuck in careless strips along the gashes. What a fucking mess.
I got to work, biting the inside of my cheek. I felt my composure slip a couple times at the sight of the gory wounds. I didn't do well with blood, but I tried to focus on cleaning him up quickly. Pelle didn't even wince when I wiped the alcohol across his arms. My hands were shaky, and I kept dropping things. The buzz was wearing off, but I was clumsy from all the booze and slow from the grass.
Øystein had begun to help. I think it was after he noticed my discomfort the first time. He had taken one of Pelle's arms, tending to it as I did, copying whatever I did with the other arm.
We sat in silence - nothing to hear but our breathing. I realised mine had been quiet but staggered as I was holding back emotion and panic.
Done. His arms were bandaged, but truthfully, the gashes were so deep that I was almost certain he would need stitches.
I sat for a moment, before reaching out my hand squeezing Pelle's. I felt Øystein's gaze, but the tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly let go and grabbed the first aid kit, binning the rubbish before making my way to the door. I heard Øystein get up to follow and as I returned the first aid kit to behind the counter, I noticed Pelle sitting back down at the table.
Krista, Emil and Aksel were still there, sitting at another table - looking at me. Krista looked concerned for Pelle, and maybe me.
I just needed to leave. Without a word to anyone, I headed for the door. It closed behind me, but opened again shortly after. I was already down the street. "Elsie." Øystein called out. His voice sounded a little hoarse. I kept walking as the tears streamed. I didn't want an audience.
I hadn't gotten all that much further on the walk home, when a car pulled up beside me. The Volvo.
The tears had stopped, and I was going numb, not just from the cold. I didn't even think, just climbed in the passenger side. Øystein sat silently for a few minutes, the stereo on low. I just stared at the road ahead. We were alone in his car and he was taking me home.
"How are you doing?" He finally broke the silence. I couldn't seem to respond.
"It's just part of his act..." He tried to sound reassuring, dismissive even. Maybe he was trying to convince himself, too.
"He needs stitches." I said quietly. I saw him nod from the corner of my eye.
"Alright."
He pulled up at the front of my house and cut the engine, turning to me slowly. I could feel him examine me. I hesitated to move for some reason. My body felt heavy, and I craved to not be awake.
"Who's the guy?" His question caught me by surprise and I glanced at him, blankly.
"Aksel?" I blinked. "I barely know him." I muttered. He didn't say anything, nor did his body language reveal anything.
"Thanks for the ride." I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, climbing out the car. Without another word, he drove off.