Øystein was driving a girl home, since she didn’t have a ride. She was his bestest friend ever. He had a crush on her, but he could never tell her. Øystein knew he was the first person to make true Norwegian black metal.

His hands were on the steering wheel as he turned to her with a calm smile.

“Did you see our latest concert? It was awesome. I remember we always hung out to watch concerts.”

He said with his Norwegian accent, but it was soft and warm.