Chris smirked. “You say that like it’s a news flash.”
“Why are we friends again?”
“Because I’m fun,” Chris said matter-of-factly. “And because I’m blunt and can say the things you’re too emotionally stunted to admit out loud. Like, for example”—he gestured toward Noah, who was helping Markus up, both still laughing like assclowns—“the fact that you just had a full-body reaction to Noah tripping.”
“I did not have a full-body reaction.”Who are you trying to fool?
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, just a minute ago, it looked like you were about to start a rescue mission. If that’s not a reaction, I don’t know what is.”
“I was justmomentarilyworried our vocalist had hurt himself before our show tonight,” Kaj said, lighting a cig to keep his hands busy.
“Right, because Marc, Søren, Björn, and literally everyone else here would have left him for dead,” Chris said with a cig in his mouth. “You needed to intervene.”
Kaj held the Zippo for Chris, clenching his jaw and refusing to take the bait.
“At least admit you’re plowing him?”
“I am. So what?”
Chris choked on his cigarette, coughing out a laugh. “Oh my god! You just said it. No resistance, no dodging, no ‘fuck off, Schmidt,’” he mocked. “Just straight-up admission!”
Kaj rolled his eyes while taking a drag. “Why is it even that surprising? You saw the photos they posted online.”
“Yeah, but that and this are two completely different things. I swear, if you tell me you’ve also started writing in a journal about your feelings, I might actually pass out.”
“Not a chance.”
Chris sighed dramatically. “Pity. That’d be fun to read.”
“Do you even know how to read?” Kaj countered with a smirk.
Kaj had met Buried Alive a couple of years after joining Artificial Suicide. He hadn’t expected to bond with anyone outside his own band, least of all Chris Schmidt—the absolute tornado of a human being who seemed to exist solely to cause chaos. But somehow, it worked. Kaj’s broody, deadpan nature balanced out Chris’s loud and reckless energy, and beneath that, they shared the same dry, self-deprecating humor. So it didn’t take long before they were bouncing sarcasm off each other like it was a competition.
“Asshole.” Chris laughed as he tapped his cigarette. “So, what’s next? You gonna start holding hands in public? Get matching sweaters?”
Kaj exhaled a cloud of smoke, completely unbothered. “Jealous?”
“No, but if you skip the unnecessary drama, I’ll be offended. Marc and I had a lot of crap to dig out before we got our shit together—more like I got my shit together, but whatever. You don’t get to just be normal.”
Kaj snorted. “I don’t think ‘normal’ is on the table for us.”
“Well, here’s to you finally catching up to the rest of us, then.” Chris touched his cigarette against Kaj’s in some sort of toast.
As the ridiculous race ended and conversations turned to other things, the energy in the artist area subtly shifted. The festival grounds were alive with the steady pulse of distant music and the occasional eruption of cheers from one or another stage. The sun dipped lower, painting everything in a hazy golden glow as long shadows cast over the trailer park.
Kaj crushed the stub of another cig against the sole of his boot. The weight of the moment settled on his chest, just like every time they were a few minutes away from a live performance. Tonight, however, there was a flare of bravery he’d never felt before.
His eyes moved to Noah, who was chatting with Dark Omen members—he’d been a fan forever.
“Alright, dumbasses,” Ivar called as he strode toward them, a festival pass bouncing against his chest. He looked like he’d been wrangling musicians all day and was officially out of patience. “Let’s move.”
“Talk about special treatment,” Kaj said as he stood up and patted his ass. It hurt from all the time he’d been sitting here.
“You’ll get the special treatment of me not dragging you to the stage myself. You’re out in an hour. Go get ready. Now.”
Artificial Suicide made their way through the artist area toward their tent. The air sparked with excitement as another band came off stage, their clothes damp with sweat, faces alight with the post-show high.
As soon as they got there, Giulia handed Kaj his sticks, and together they made final adjustments to his kit. Kaj crouched to tighten a stand and tapped the snare as she focused on listening before making another small tweak. Then, while she got it up on the rolling platform to bring it to the stage with the help of some of the festival’s staff, Kaj ran through a quick rudiment pattern on his practice pad to warm up his muscles a little, tuning everything else out.
