Tags: toki wartooth

pickles the drummer

[pastklok] nate & toki, 1997

When Nathan rolled over in bed, sunlight was streaming in the window, blinding his fucking face. Pickles kept opening the blinds in their room and leaving them up at night and it was pissing him off, because in the morning, Nathan woke up and the sun was all over the fucking place. He was trying to get his fucking sleep.

He got up and stood in the shower for a while, and he came out wearing just his jeans, hair dripping down his back. He wandered to the kitchen to find some food, but Toki was sitting at the counter on the bar stool, drawing something on the back of a piece of junk mail. Nathan just stared at him for a minute, running his hands through his tangled, wet hair, and it seemed so weird that this kid was here. He was wearing Pickles' old shirt and there were at least two holes in it that he could see, and he was wearing Skwisgaar's jeans, rolled up to just under his knees. Those things would be way too long on that kid.

"Where is everyone?" Nathan asked, feeling a little groggy and lost still.