Mayhem fanfiction (sort of)

Chapter 1

Jan 2

Mayhem Fanfiction

Euronymous' POV

Sick and tired. That pretty much summed up how I felt before it all happened. Everyone came across all the same; the same conformist clothes, politics, music, religion- it didn't just bore me, but it angered me too. These people were fucking stupid, and for a while I believed all people were like that. The only exception was my band-mate Necrobutcher, but even he was a bit of a pussy in the end. No wonder I hated them all. That was, until, I met someone who would eventually have an impact on me until his death in 1991.

Per Yngve Ohlin, a teenage Swede, had sent a demo tape (along with a dead mouse for some fucked up reason) to Necro after our band Mayhem put word out we were looking for a new vocalist, and after he was accepted I was the one who was sent to the airport to meet him for the first time. If all was good, he was staying. I was laid back about it, somewhat amused by the idea of another person thinking they were as into the scene as me, and the whole crucified mouse thing was all I needed to make the judgement that this guy wasn't right in the head. But hey, neither am I really, and that's probably why I got excited at the thought of him being a little bit psychotic.

So a couple weeks after he sent the demo, I got into my run down car that just about managed to start, despite the haggard engine and low fuel supply, and began my route towards Oslo airport. I walked in, and I couldn't help but notice the amount of people looking in my direction. Okay, I wasn't the most liked person in any familiar area, and after the release of the first Mayhem album I was considered somewhat 'satanic' and 'evil,' but I'd never really took note of other people's reactions to me before. Probably because I'd never really cared before- they were assholes anyway, and I guess I liked the attention, good or bad. Becoming immediately fed up of the unwelcoming glances and turning heads, I walked towards the back of the terminal room where nobody could really see me and put in my headphones. Merciful Fate knew how to block out the mindless conversation of mindless asshats. Then, I proceeded to wait. I remember I must have waited around half an hour for him. The worst part was I didn't have a fucking clue what he looked like, so he could have walked round the corner at any second and I would've completely missed him, and I don't think he really knew what I looked like either. Luckily, it turned out he had an image that meant you instantly recognised him, even if you'd never met him before. As soon as I saw his figure walking down the terminal, I knew it was him. He was tall, around 6ft, with a slim stature and long, scruffy blonde hair, trailing a suitcase behind him. His clothes were similar to mine; ripped skinny jeans, an unknown band shirt, and old lace up boots. The only thing he lacked was the bullet belt...

As he walked closer, I couldn't help but look at the newly-inflicted scars all up his lower arms. Damn. There was something strangely attractive about his body language, just the way he walked, and the little half smirk on his face.. No, I didn't think he was HOT. I wasn't some type of homo or something. He was just a good looking guy.

When he came towards the wall I was leaning against, I put my arm out in front of him, so he knew it was me. He looked down at me when he saw me, and turned to my direction. I forced a smile, shyly slipping my hand into my pocket.

'So, you must be our new vocalist,' I eventually said, trying to look as laid back as possible. 'I'm Øystein, but I'm more known as Euronymous in this scene.'

'Yeah, heard of you,' he said quickly. 'Just call me Dead.'

'Okay, but why Dead?,' I questioned, lighting up a cigarette as we walked out the airport, not really thinking twice about the fact he said he'd heard about me. 'I'm the guitarist by the way,'

'I'll tell you when I think you'll understand, no one does anyway. And yeah, I can tell,' he muttered, walking slightly ahead of me. I sped up, so I was walking in step with him.

'I will understand. I'm not like the others,' I said, my eyes glancing up at his.

'So where will I stay?' He said blankly, immediately looking away from me when he noticed I was looking at him. He seemed dismissive and depressive, but charismatic all the same. It was just something about him. He was different. I liked that.

'Oh.. Well, my place of course!' I said eventually, pretending he hadn't just purposely changed the subject.

Dead said nothing, he didn't smile, and he continued to say nothing when we were in the car, which honestly made me sort of nervous around him. It wasn't just his charisma, but his mystery. It made you ache to want to know more about him.