Dethklok- Intoxicate Me

A Real Date

It's been a day since I've seen Skwisgaar. It's hard to say I haven't already been missing him. After the sudden change of heart yesterday, he's been on my mind non stop. It feels like things had moved so fast, but really they didn't. We've known each other for quite a while. I just didn't warm up to him until recently.

I've been thinking about his incredible skills on guitar. Sometimes his fame slips my mind, especially when we're together. Now that I'm away from him it seems to be all I can think about. His band was brought up a few times. What were they called again? Dethklok? That sounds like what the man with short, blonde hair said.

I reach over from the bed and grab my phone off of the nightstand, quickly typing the name into the search bar. Instantly millions of results pop up. I'm, at this point, absolutely blown away. He must not have been lying when he said they were the most famous band in the world.

For the next few hours I listen to each of their albums, just absorbing everything. As each guitar solo passes my mind says So that's Skwisgaar. It doesn't matter how many solos there are, it keeps amazing me. God, I better not be obsessed with this guy. Wouldn't that be funny?

Without thinking I pull up the keypad and dial the number he wrote down for me when he left. As the trill of the ring pulses through my ears I bite my lip. What if this is me being needy?

I thought I had told myself to quit over thinking everything. It seems like old habits are hard to dispose of.

"Bea?" he asks, a bit more energy in his voice than usual. This comes as a relief, as he sounds happy to hear from me.

"It ams funny, I wanteds to calls you but I," he chuckles, "I have to says, I was a littles bit nervous."

I suppress a giggle as I try to keep up a normal conversation, probably one of our first that doesn't involve sex or crying.

"Yeah, I was just listening to your band," I say. "You guys are good, no wonder you're so big... The band, not you," I add partly as a joke and partly as actual reassurance. Either way, it prompts a short laugh from his end.

"What'cha talking about?" a new voice chimes in on the call.

"Murderface, gets off my call," Skwisgaar groans.  "How is he-" I start, only to be cut off by the call ending. I stare at the phone for a second before it starts ringing again, and I pick it up immediately.

"We only haves one line and Murderface is a dildo," he states. At this point there's a huge smile on my face. It seems like I've never been able to see any sort of joking side from Skwisgaar. Whether or not he's trying, it's not hard for him to make me laugh.

"Anysways," he says, "Uhm, we've already slept togethers many times, but we haven'ts gone on a reals date."

He pauses for a second.

"So... Does you wants to do that?"

A real date. No hookups, no mystery. It sounds intimidating. Whenever I start to doubt myself like this I just remember the way he was there for me when I needed him.

"Of course," I say with only a little hesitation.

---

Skwisgaar's grip on my hand is tight, yet somewhat comforting as he leads me up the grassy hills, which have been freshly covered in a thick frost. Him, being from Sweden, is well acclimated to the cold weather and only needs a thick leather jacket to warm him. I, on the other hand, am still chilly in a thick sweater and heavy fleece coat.

As we reach the top of the hill I can't help but let out a short chuckle. He has never ceased to amaze me as of recently, and this only shows it.

"I knows it's a littles much..." he trails off.

Maybe I hadn't realized how long we were in the car, but it must have been a while to end up here. The land we stand on breaks off a few feet away, revealing a large body of water in front of us. A river. Other hills seems to roll along the sides of it, creating an image I couldn't even think to exist. Then again, I may or may not be easily impressed.

"It reminds me of home ins the summer," he says. "I don'ts comes here a lot. It ams both good and bad."

He's probably referring to his rough childhood. I look up to see him just as his eyes break away from my face. "Aw, don't let me ruin it for you," I joke.

"You'd only makes it better," he says quietly. I can tell he's not necessarily a romantic, more or less just in it for the hookups. It only makes these grand gestures mean so much more. Before I can comment on this he's walking over to the edge of the cliff. My heart skips a beat as I imagine the worst, but he only takes a seat, lazily dangling his legs over the 100-or-so foot drop.

I sit down next to him, however I choose to cross my legs and grab his arm tightly. He grins a bit at this, but he can't say I'm being irrational.

After a minute I can feel my eyes watering from the cold wind, so I bury my face into his jacket. He, in turn, shifts his body so that his jacket acts as walls from the cold around me. For a while we have a conversation like that, the only awkward aspect being that I have to talk up to him from his chest. Neither of us really mind, though.