Some time later, Xander touched his shoulder, motioning for him to take off his headphones as Ivar entered the tent.
“Ten minutes,” he called.
As they went out into the night, the towering stage loomed over them, bathed in deep reds and blues as the intro track rumbled to life.
Their moment had arrived.
Energy swelled, thick and electric, as they lined up behind the heavy black curtains. The murmur of the crowd chanting outside blended with it, elevating to the open sky above. Kaj rolled his shoulders and tightened his grip on the drumsticks, feeling the familiar burn of anticipation creep up his spine.
A stagehand waved them forward. Adrenaline coursed through Kaj’s veins as they stepped outside, and the crowd exploded into screams, calling their name.
Kaj slid into position behind his kit. He’d done this more times than he could count, but tonight was special. Not only were they home, but he was also up on this stage with Noah. This wasn’t just another gig. It was the moment they’d dreamed about when they were kids—them together on this stage.
Taking a deep breath, Kaj drank in the view ahead—horn signs raised high, a sea of bodies pressed together. It was magnificent.
As the eerie intro faded away, they began to play. The ground beneath Kaj vibrated with the force of their music as his arms moved with a blistering tempo. The crowd lost themselves in it, worshipping the chaos unfolding on stage, slamming against each other in a beautiful riot of excitement, sweat, and violence.
Flashing red strobes pounded in sync with the drums, shifting to a fixated deep blue shade when Aksel slid the pick on the strings of his guitar. Xander’s bass lines were punchy and aggressive, but as the rhythm changed, the sound became heavier, groovier. And in the middle of the frantic atmosphere, therehestood.
Noah fucking Sørensen. The man who made Kaj feel things he never thought possible.
The vocalist stepped up on one of the platforms at the edge of the stage and roared. His growls carved through the brutal melody, sending chills that lodged into Kaj’s spine.
Afraid of digging too deep into his memory, Kaj refused to admit it before, but he heard it now, loud and clear. Raw power rumbled from the cavity of Noah’s chest and through his throat, coming out in a breathtaking mix of disgusting gutturals and torn emotions.
The weight of their history hit Kaj like a wrecking ball as he drummed furiously. His mind and body were chained here, on this stage, with their raging audience, but his heart… The little organ that kept him alive was in Noah’s hands. Was it love? Was it codependency and his brain was just tricking him? Kaj had no idea, but he didn’t give a fuck.
As the concert went on, Kaj sank deeper and deeper into everything he was feeling, something so strong it felt like it could split the universe in two. The chord progression, the darkness of the bass, the shifts between triple and duple meter, Noah’s vocals…
The setlist blurred into a haze of unrelenting savagery. Kaj’s hands slammed down on the snare, his arms burning with each hit. Sweat glided down his face as he let the force of his drums drive him, pushing him forward as the sky cracked open.
A flash of lightning. A few hesitant drops at first. Then an unforgiving downpour, the kind that soaked clothes in seconds and made concerts that much more epic. Because instead of slowing the band down, it only fueled them. Because instead of running for shelter, the crowd screamed louder.
Another solo hit, and Aksel’s guitar sliced through the air like a blade. Xander’s bass groaned. Noah’s voice rippled into a darker shade. It was pure madness. A beautiful collision of sounds. Kaj could feel the frenetic energy filtering through his pores, strumming the threads tethering him to reality as Noah’s gaze locked with his. That fucking lethal eye game. That smirk that curled his lips like a promise, a dare, awarning.
Kaj’s heart pounded. His chest tightened. The crowd roared. The lights flickered. But all he could see was the man in front of him.
A final explosion of fire lit up the storm-ridden sky. The entire festival ground was a blur as the band stood frozen in the aftermath, chests rising and falling, utterly spent and satisfied.
Although life was calmer after coming back from the American tour, Artificial Suicide wouldn’t take a real break until they were done with the summer round of festivals. And even then, they’d have to start preparing new material for the next album.
Today, for example, they had an interview following their Copenhell performance last night.
The press lounge carried the faint scent of coffee, printer paper, and slightly stale air from too many people cycling in and out all day. The room decoration was minimal, except for the wall behind the musicians that was covered with a backdrop displaying sponsor logos alongside the names of several bands, a reminder of the corporate side of things.
Kaj sat in the middle of the couch, arms crossed and an ankle resting on the other knee, his usual broody presence steady beside Noah, who was fumbling with the bottle of water in his hands. Aksel had sprawled comfortably beside the vocalist, while Xander looked like he was debating if this was a necessary evil or just another form of mild torture.
Artificial Suicide had done enough interviews over the years to know the routine, but live streams were different. More unpredictable and sometimes uncomfortable, since toward the end of the interaction with the interviewer, they had to answer a flood of fan questions they couldn’t filter beforehand.
Niels stood just out of frame behind the interviewer, Martin, arms folded as he kept an eye on the chat. It wasn’t that he expected them to fuck up, but knowing their history, he liked to be prepared, especially with the rise of so many weirdos since Noah joined the band. Some people really didn’t know how to deal with changes.
“Alright, we’re live!” Martin said as he sat across from them, all smiles and caffeine-fueled enthusiasm. “First off, congratulations on the absolute insanity of the concert last night. The energy was unreal. How does it feel to be back at Copenhell?”
“Like home. Only louder.” Aksel grinned.
Xander nodded. “And with more smoke, fire, and—”
“Smells worse, too,” Kaj added flatly.
