Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tord had been working two shifts a day.

The first shift was from 10 to 2 and the other was the night shift at a rundown, 24 hour Sheetz.

The American food chain had established quite a few locations in England about 8 months ago, and considering how he was homeless and broke, Tord immediately applied and was miraculously hired.

His skin itches. He doesn't scratch it.

He knew if he did, it would peel back the poorly healed layers of skin on top of his gashes located on his right side. It tickled, but Tord knew after a while the urge would go away. It always did. He often dealt with decent people, but like every other job, he had assholes too. His everyday asshole customer would come in and act all entitled, only to scrutinize Tord's appearance and treat him like hot garbage that had bird shit on it.

Today was no different.

A Karen looking bitch walked in with her kid while her very American husband waited by the gas pump which was shoved into their rental minivan. The child looked fat enough for Tord to guess that his diet consisted strictly of hamburgers. The mother had an uncomfortably thin body that made her look like that freak from that movie Coraline.

Her edges were defined by the jut of her bones, making Tord feel queasy. The two waddled and strutted around the messy Sheetz aisles and grabbed handfuls of trashy snacks and soda bottles.

The Karen's fanny-pack displayed the U.S.A's flag which pretty much jumped out and screamed 'Merica! Once the pair were at the register the mother finally got a good look at him.

She released a bloodcurdling scream that entered through Tord's ears and shook his brain.

It was hot out today. Tord wore a short sleeve shirt. His mistake.

He remembered that he saw his manager today. Great. After the woman was done with her episode, she slapped a hand over her kid's eyes. Who, by the way, pointed and mutter 'cool' in the most southern accent he had ever heard. He faintly heard the clicking of 2-inch heels on the floor before his manager appeared next to Tord, breathing heavily despite the short distance.

"Ma'am, is there a problem?" The girl stood beside Tord as he turned to give his manager a look that said 'the usual'.

"Yes! W-what is wrong with him! I'm not letting him near my purchases with his skin condition!" The lady shrieked which caused other patron's head to turn and watch the scene. "Ma'am, with all due respect. This isn't a skin condition, he got these scars from a traumatic event that-"

Tord zoned out while looking at the patterned tiles that decorated the floor with their horrendous color palette.

"Tord," a hand was placed on his shouldered, dragged his head back up to his manager who was still a few inches shorter than him despite her heels. Her brunette hair was frizzy and astray making her look like she came from a rainstorm.

"Why don't you go out and take a smoke break for a few minutes. I'll ask Rodger to work register until you come back, okay?" Tord nodded and apologized to the Karen in front of him, hand still covering her kid's eyes. Tord was grateful that his manager put up with this shit every day. Grateful she hadn't moved him to a grosser job instead of register. Grateful he hadn't been fired yet.

Tord walked out of the back door that was strictly for employee access and rounded the building to stand by the front. He leaned against the ugly brick wall of his workplace before setting down the ratty old black bag he grabbed on his way out. He tucked his uniform shirt into his acid wash jeans before returning his attention to the bag, debating whether or not he should get a cigarette or light one of his cigars he ordered from amazon which came in recently.

His fingers brushed the thick rod.

"To hell with it."

Tord picked up a Fonseca and reached for his lighter that was in the cup pocket.

He swiftly flicked his thumb down and lit his cigar; hooking his index finger around the top, and supported the bottom using his middle finger came like second nature. He positioned the cigar between his lips and let a deep breath fill his lungs with the toxic smoke before he puffed it out. The smoke reminded Tord of stormclouds, dark and puffy. Tord had always liked the rain, but recently he found out that when the rain got too harsh it irritated his arm. He remembers being a kid. Letting the raindrops catch in his mouth as he slashed around in puddles. His mother would occasionally join him, if he was lucky, his dad would join. They would jump in and over the large puddles, raindrops ricocheted off the surface before finally settling in causing circular rings to echo around the center.

They would forget about the hole in the ceiling. Forget about the loud neighbors that drank and smashed beer bottles against the paper-thin walls. Forget about the officers patrolling the streets, large guns in hand, and dogs at their feet. Forget about life.

But now it's harder to forget. Harder to even try. Still, Tord tries. It doesn't work often. The smoke danced around the air as it climbed higher into the atmosphere.

Finally finding sanctuary, Tord crossed his arms and leaned his head back. Tilted his Sheetz hat down lazily over his eyes as he puffed for a while longer.

The sound of automatic doors opening dragged Tord back to reality. He heard that familiar southern accent waft in the air as he saw the pair leave. The mother yanking her child along with her, junk food swinging from a bag in the other hand. She shoved the chubby child into the back, strapping him in and smacking a disgusting looking kiss on his forehead before slamming her door shut. The husband practically sped out of the lot, motor sputtering the whole time.

Silence took hold. It was really quite miraculous how quickly silence can unsettle someone, especially when only a moment ago that person was yearning for it. The soft motor of cars accompanied the mechanical 'beeps' from the gas station area. No voices to be heard, no people around to talk. (Save himself, but did that count?)

He watched the puffs of smoke that drifted off into the air until they eventually disappeared. He thinks back to when he would sit at a hard wooden desk with blueprints splayed out everywhere and his fateful friends that stood and watched as he threw a tantrum. Tord sighed as he looked down at the pavement fiddling with the outline of his phone in his pocket.

He called Patryk and Paul.

{-}

Later that day, Tord came back in for his night shift. He normally had a less stressful time seeing as they had fewer customers. A couple, but less. Most of the time, Tord would just sit back and watch YouTube on his phone but was polite enough to turn it off when a patron entered.

Tonight, however, Tord wasn't in the mood for polite. He was behind on Keeping Up With The Kardashians and he would be damned him he let work get in the way. And sure, sure, call him weird all you want. Call him girly or whatever, but it was fucking hilarious. He wasn't stupid enough to actually like any of the stupid hoes, but they said some dumb shit that made Tord laugh and forgets about his shitty life, so yeah. Tord watched the Kardashians. Get over it.

Tonight, Tord didn't turn off his phone when someone entered and, yeah, that wasn't very job-ly of him, but sacrifices must be made and the videos need to be watched. He heard the jangle from the door and only glanced up to see checkered converse sneakers. Lame. Tord focused his gaze back down in time to see Kim backhand someone and then say some dumb shit. The sound of wet shoes squished around the store as the guest looked around. Tord hadn't realized it was raining. The annoying squeaks stopped and Tord looked around to spot where the guest stopped.

He saw a blue hood top covering the head of the shopper and Tord's heart exploded in his chest. Tord's palms began to sweat as he felt the room get cooler. Holy shit, is this a heart attack? Tord's eyes shook slightly as his head began pounding.

It couldn't be...

All the way out here? No way!

Why would-? There's no way!

Tord searched for a reason it wouldn't...him. He glanced up at the section the buyer was in, only to be mentally slapped in the face by a 'Beer Cave' sign. He shook his head as he watched the hooded man enter through the door. Tord was the only worker there. The next employee wouldn't be coming in for at least another hour or so. Tord couldn't hide. The only thing close to a hiding spot was behind the shelves in the beer cave, but wouldn't that just be the weirdest fucking encounter. He nearly snapped his neck when he heard the door swing open once more.

Tord paused his show and glued his eyes to the floor. Suddenly finding the pattern very interesting. The damp shoe squeaked up to him until Tord's view was obstructed by black ripped jeans. This was it. The end. Tord never imagined it would end this way. He always thought it would end on the battlefield or from doing some stupid shit, but never like this.

Tord slowly looked up only to be taken aback. The man before him certainly wasn't who he had been expecting. The guest had frizzy black hair that reached his shoulders and puffed out like a lion. Only the hood and sleeves were blue of his hoodie as the other parts were black and littered in-band patches and pins. Tord looked at the man's face and was immediately drawn to the black mark on the stranger's cheek which read 'No Regerts'. The fancy lettering appeared slightly smudged and Tord smiled at the clumsiness before shaking his head.

"Hey." The dark-haired boy offered as he placed a Passion Fruit Amoretti and small Doritos bag on the counter. Tord grasped the thick bottle and brought his scanner gun up to it. Definitely not. He never drank sweet stuff. Tord really needed a vacation.

"ID?"

The man scrunched his face up, "Do I not look old enough to ya?" His Irish accent was heavy and Tord furrowed his eyebrows. How could he ever think that this man could have been-

"Sir, it doesn't matter what I think. It's protocol. Don't wanna lose my job." Tord stated in a bored-as-ever tone. "ID?"

The frizzy-haired man grumbled as he fished into his pocket and yanked out a little card, slapping it down onto the desk. Tord quirked a brow but took it nevertheless.

Soon enough the doppelgänger left, leaving Tord with nothing but his thoughts. His thoughts and the Kardashians.

{-}

A week later, Tord was once again at the register for his day hours. He picked at a flyer with his uneven fingernails, peeling back the old ducktape as he watched the small tv that hung from the ceiling. The old television was playing an episode of The Addams Family. Tord sighed as he watched the opening theme, the volume hardly audible.

A chime sounded from the door signaling a customer's entry. Tord guided his gaze towards the front door to set his sights on a small child no more than 11. Tord's eyes opened slightly in shock as he slowly looked around for the child's parent.

"Hellooo! Sir!" The childish voice reached Tord's ears and drew his attention back down to the kid whose head was below the desk causing Tord to lean over his desk and look down at the small kid.

"Eh, kid, where is your-"

"Woah! You talk funny!"

"Huh?" Who was this kid?

"Alright, buster. Where's your mother?" The kid pulled a face and straightened his poster.

"She ain't here. I'm working!" The kid jabbed a thumb at himself, his other fist carried a bundle of posters and sheets.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here?" Tord asked, rolling his eyes at the kid's annoying act.

"Told ya, I'm working. I got a bunch of flyers and advertisements, can I put 'em up around here?"

"What am I getting out of this kid?" Tord halted his flyer picked to wait for the answer.

"We'll pay to put them up." "Deal."

Tord watched as the boy smiled and began undoing his bundle. "Can you hold some while I put the others up?" "Sure." Tord grabbed the handful that the kid pushed into his hands and huffed. The kid reached into his side bag (That Tord didn't even see before) to pull out a thick roll of clear tape. As the kid exited to tape some on the outside, Tord looked through the flyers in his hand to see if any spiked his interest.

A biker club? Nope.

A Hawaiian Hula party that is trying to raise money for their church's mission trip? Pass.

A garage band debuting at a bar this Friday. No thank you.

Just as Tord was about to skip to the next when something caught his eye. He placed the band poster back down, a suspicious gaze on his face. Tord examined the poster and immediately spotted the subject of his attention.

There he was, in all his glory.

Tom.

Tord felt a pang of what he recognized to be fear strike down on him as he tracked up and down his former housemate's face. He looked older, even if has only been about a year from their last encounter. It had still been a year. Tord felt like there was a black hole in his stomach, eating him from the inside out. It slowly ripped his skin and swallowed his intestines like spaghetti as it grew and grew and grew devouring everything in its wake. His expressions must've portrayed his feelings because the boy, who had somehow appeared in front of him again, asked about it.

"What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost." The kid grabbed a corner of the poster and read it silently.

"Oh! This poster is a week old. This week's one must be underneath it. They played all week last week and everybody loved them, I heard they booked the same place this week too. Well, I didn't hear it, I read it from their advertisement."

"Wait, did you see them? I thought they were playing at a bar?" The kid blushed as he released the posters. "Well, I was with my parents then. We were out on our family date night. My daddy wanted to showoff to mommy at darts so we went to the bar. They were really good! They mostly played cover songs, but I heard they sometimes write their own music."

Tord felt his arm itch. He didn't scratch it.

A draft from the front door blew on Tord as he watched the kid recycle the old poster, revealing a similar one underneath it. The main difference was the spotlight colors and the dates at the bottom.

"You should come this Friday and see them! I can convince my family to go again that night!" Tord's brow rose unintentionally. "You want me to come?"

The kid looked up at Tord, his amber eyes gleamed in the sunlight that peered from the drive-through window next to Tord. "Well, Imma be doing business with yah, so might as well."

"You aren't freaked out by..." Tord gestured to his right side. "...all of this?"

The kid collected his things and headed to the door all the while keeping his gaze directed at Tord. "Naw, not really. I think it's cool. See ya Friday!"

Tord watched as the kid taped the poster for Tom's band on the inside of the door and left with his supplies. Tord noticed a small pile of cash on his desk and smiled as he took a picture of the information on the poster. Sure, he would go. After all, how bad could it be?

{-}

It was horrible.

The lights dimmed to their lowest setting, LEDs and laser pointers shot about with their multicolored-ness. It practically screamed seizure. The clang of glasses and beer mugs rang in Tord's ear as he pushed his way through the crowd of tipsy people dancing to music that was way too loud. Tord felt the bass as it shook the room, the deep and overbearing guitar cords rang and tossed Tord's body to the beat of 'Still into You' by Paramore. Tord recognized the song because who wouldn't? It was one of the most popular songs a while back, played on every radio station and at every party. Tord remembers when he first heard it. He was on a road trip with Edd, Matt, and Tom.

Tom.

Tord looked up and over the sea of bobbing heads to see the band. He saw a guy on keys. He didn't recognize him. He saw a guy on drums. Didn't know him either. Then, Tord spotted him.

There, strumming his guitar and singing into the standup mic, was Tom. His rich vocals were singing the lyrics as he jammed on his guitar. Tord identified said guitar as Susan. The neck was held together with gray duck tape and the paint of the checkered pattern was chipping, but it was unmistakable. Tord noticed the stubble on Tom's chin as the colored lights glared into his irises. He noticed a new eyebrow pricing above Tom's left eye as well as a few trailing up the shell of his left ear. He looked different ... but the same?

Tord was brought back to that road trip. He crawled into the dented up red car as Edd pulled away from the 711 they just raided. Bags full of chips and other junk food occupied the ground by Tord's feet as he leaned out of his seat to turn on the radio. He was in the back, so he grabbed onto the front chairs for support. Once he turned it on, a song Matt favored must have just ended because Tord vaguely remembers him shouting,

'Aw man! I like that song!' Just then a whirring sound filled the car right before it dinged and the singing started. "Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together!"

'I haven't heard this one before!' Tord's interest spiked at the idea of something new. 'Me neither!' He shouted over the music as he leaned back and rolled down his window, promptly sticking his hand out and gliding it through the cold air as they sped down the high way. The night was crisp and the cooling breezing stabbed his flesh like daggers, but Tord liked it. The new beat shook the car as they drove and Tord could feel the bass beat in his chest.

Tord wondered if that's what Tom was thinking as he sang-shout into the mic and strummed down on his guitar.

Just then a stranger slammed into Tord and sent him stumbling right in front of the tip jar. Which wasn't a tip jar, but Tom's guitar case. Tord blinked and stared at the checkered shoes in front of him. He quickly tugged on his hoodie top and swerved around to avoid any interaction with Tom. Tord wasn't stupid. He wasn't wearing his old red hoodie, the one with a ripped sleeve and blood stained side. He wasn't stupid. Tord was wearing an old-as-dirt black hoodie that had patches of other various materials patching up holes. The back was litter with patches of places and bands and random shit he thought looked cool. The top center of the back read 'Community P̶a̶y̶Blowback' Blow was written above pay and a sloppy smiley face was inside the 'O' of the blow. Up the sleeves were lettering that was completely illegible as it was mostly peeled away. Most of it was littered in tv and movie references.

Tord very robotically walked to the bar parallel from where Tom and his band were playing. Was the air conditioning broken or was the heat from the multitude of dancing bodies too overpowering? He ordered a drink. He didn't touch it. He paid. He got up to leave, but before he did he was pulled by the hand by a small figure. Even though Tord hadn't had anything to drink he felt drunk. Drunk off of the environment. The loud music and crazy lights made him miss-steps as he was tugged along; eventually identified the tiny figure pulling him as the advertisement boy. He clumsily bumped into the kid's back as the little gremlin stopped.

When Tord looked up to see two adults, he immediately identified them as the kid's parents because they looked remarkably similar to their son.

"Hello, Mister and Misses...eh..." Tord began only to finally realize he didn't know who this kid even was.

"Arthur." The kid peeped up from next to Tord. "My name's Arthur."

Tord's hum accompanied a curt nod in response as he looked up at Arthur's family. A baby in a pink dress sat on her mother's hip, staring at Tord with a binkie in her mouth. Tord only then wondered why on Earth he was here with a kid he talked to for 5 minutes.

"Mom, dad. This is the man that helped me earn 70 pounds!" Tord blinked.

"70 pounds!" He shouted only to slap a hand over his mouth. "70 pounds?" Tord began at a whisper this time, cautious of his volume.

"Mhmm!" The kid placed his fists on his hips and beamed.

"Well then, thanks for helping our son." The gruff voice of Arthur's father almost startled Tord. The dad turned back to the game of darts the family appeared playing. By the looks of the dart's and the father's color, the mom seemed to be winning. The glow in the dark darts scattered around the target, but the red ones were very clearly closer to the middle. The mother shuffled closer to Tord, grabbing his attention, and rocked her baby on her hip.

"My son said he wanted to come back because he liked the band. Do you fancy music like this?" Her honey-sweet tone matched her looks perfectly. Her bright auburn hair was in a messy bun that hung low near her neck, a few strands of hair escaped the bundle and played the role of sparse bangs. She had little to none makeup on but still looked like a model. Her pale green eyes put Tord's dull orbs to shame as he looked back at her.

"Yes. I know one of the members." Tord mentally cringed as he accidentally spilled the truth while distracted noting the lady's features. Why did he say that?!

Her husband came back over and wrapped his hand around her waist. While they both were quite attractive, their age was noticeable by the crow's feet lines nest to their eyes. Tord reckoned it was a result of frequent smiling, they seemed like the type of people who smiled often. A few furrowed wrinkles were prominent on the husband's forehead.

"Is that so?"

"Could you introduce me?" Arthur's little voice sounded from his father's side as Tord felt the room get hotter.

Who was turning up the heat? Perhaps the air conditioning truly was broken.

"N-no." Tord forced out as he directed his gaze to the ground. He felt himself starting to sweat so he began pulling at the bottom of his hoodie.

"What! Why not?" The kid's anger was clear in his tone. Arthur's father put a hand on his shoulder, warning to remain polite. "We, uh, we aren't on good terms." Tord was pulling the hoodie over his head and relished in the dark cave that surrounded his face. "That's totally made up! I bet you don't even know any of them!" Tord felt his gut clench at the accusation. "Yes, I do." Tord rushed out as he tugged his hoodie over his head completely.

He heard a glass break to his right and his head swung in the direction. He locked eyes with a woman who could be no more than 21, her wine glass lay on the ground in shards. Tord looked back up at her to see she was staring at his arm. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt underneath his hoodie. It hung loosely from his skin. He gazed down at his arm and remembered the burn marks the climbed up that side of his body.

Fuck. How could he be so stupid?

"I have to go." Tord nodded to the family in front of him and turned to leave. A ray of light beamed into Tord's eye as he recognized the drink he ordered earlier, still on the bar. Fewer ice cubes were in it, but alas, they still swam around and bumped into one another. He watched a water drop run down the side. He grasped the cool glass, chugging it down quickly. He continued walking through the crowd of dancing bodies and bumbling drunks. Tord plunged a hand onto his back pocket searching for his leather wallet. He scanned through the few bills he had and settled on a crumpled up five. Tord was a lightweight and already felt the effects of the alcohol take hold of his body. Dizzy and a little nauseous, a surge of courage ran through Tord as he turned and placed the ratty bill in Tom's case.

He was thankful they were on break and Tom was nowhere to be seen. The two other band members watched him as he came back up from placing the bill down. They stared wide-eyed at him and in silence. Eyes most likely scanning his scars. Tors stumbled backward a bit before finally finding balance.

"You played nice. I like your singer, he has a good voice." A smile washed over their faces as they redirected their gaze to meet Tord's. His accent was thick from the alcohol and he already felt himself swaying. "Thanks, you can tell him that yourself when he comes back from-"

Tord raised a hand as his other scrunched up his black hoodie, pulling the old thing to his chest. "Doubt he's want to see me, don't tell 'em I was here." He felt like he was playing with fire and just stuck his hand into the flame. Turning his hand like a rotisserie chicken, studying the flames as they engulfed his flesh. He also felt like he was going to vomit.

Jesus, what did he order? Why did he drink it?

"Hey man, you don't look so good." "Yeah, bud. You alright?" Tord shook his head as he turned to stumbled out the entrance. He jogged down the sidewalk to a communal trash can, grabbed the dirty rim, and gracefully barfed his brains out.

God, he needed a cigar.

He let go and sat down in front of the garbage can, criss-cross. He watched as a few bodies passed him, most were couples but there were a few loners and one giant college group. The street lamps stood a handful of meters down from him, flickering every minute or so, he let himself stare into the ridiculously bright bulb. He patted his jeans down and pulled out his keys. On shaky legs, Tord willed himself up and zig-zagged his way to his Kia Soul. The car's cream-colored paint seemed to shine like a flashlight in the dark, leading him to the beat-up, chipping car. He fell against the door of his car and just stayed there. He still remembered when he first got it at that old, run-down dealership. It was 30% off and frankly, that's the best Tord knew he was gonna get. The saleswoman was a very nice, plump lady with graying hair. She wore bright red lipstick and had a mole close to her mouth, but she looked very lovely to Tord. He remembered how he thought she was the only nice looking thing in the place, save for a few cars but still.

Leaning against the car, Tord was able to catch his breath before he slipped inside. The dent on the backseat door looked more pronounced thanks to the growing shadows in the dark light of the moon.

He could still feel the beat of music pounding against his chest as he drove home. Was that the remanence of the music or his heart? Did it matter? It felt the same. Thumping and thumping against his ribcage like it could break the bones and pop out of his chest.

After a shortish drive, Tord hauled his ass up a flight of stairs before his shaky hands fed his key into his apartment door. Finally getting the door open, Tord took all but four steps before his knees buckled, causing him to come crashing down to the floor. A sickening bang emitted from the action as he laid there, reflecting.

Why the fuck did he drink that? What even was it?

His blurred vision tripled as he saw his tiny Chihuahua waddle over to him before completely blacking out.

{-}

Tord awoke to a pounding headache. The familiar sound of 'Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell 3' playing in the background. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear his vision, and spotted his dog, Taco, laying across his chest in a blissful sleep. Tord huffed a laugh, instantly regretting it after a thumping ache returned to his head. Tord reached up and pushed down in hopes of stopping the banging that came from his skull.

He gingerly placed his dog on a pillow at the other end of the couch as he wiggled his way off to head to the bathroom. Tord leaned a hand against the wall for support as he cradled his stomach, feeling the contents inside swishing and swirling in an unpleasant concoction. The burning sensation in his throat told Tord he already vomited last night, yet he felt a wave of nausea hit him. Tord struggled against the wall before stumbling into his toilet room. He fell on his knees and grabbed the rim of the toilet bowl, preparing for what he knew was coming.

He sat and spit into the bowl every few minutes until he eventually threw up. It wasn't a nice, consistent vomit either; it came in rounds giving him meaningless breaks in between.

The scene reminded him of his father back when he lived in Norway. His father was a businessman man and wasn't very friendly. Now, that didn't mean he didn't love his family, he just wasn't too fond of showing it. There were a few weeks or holiday's when he got very affectionate but other than that there weren't any other times. Tord barely heard a word from his dad before he was out to work. Tord's mother stayed at home, cooking and cleaning all day. Tord would sometimes think she would turn into a vacuum overnight or simply die from over-exhaustion. She would stay and tend to the house; when she wasn't cleaning like a madman, she was asleep. If Tord found her not sleeping he would weave his way into her lap and hug her. She would stroke his hair, which she shared the color of, and quietly sing to him. He was an only child, with the exception of a stray cat that often visited the house. Tord reminisced of one time when he was drawing while his mother was cooking dinner when he asked.

"Mommy, why do we feed a cat that isn't ours?" Spoken in his native tongue, it sounded far different.

"Well, my love, when the cat comes..." she stalked over with a wooded spoon in her fist. "She scared away all the mice!" Tord's mother crept behind him and tickled his sides.

"Bahaha!"

Tord remembers the spirit in her eyes that never faded, until the one time it did.

The day already started rotten when they discovered they had been robbed. The thieves made off with most of the silverware and a few picture frames, leaving the already damaged apartment ion worse shape. The call they got at dinner only darkened their day. Tord recalls his mother picking up the phone and rejoicing with a relative. He remembers his father's smile as he fed the stray cat his leftover salmon. He remembers his mother crying as she passed the phone to her husband. His own tears at the brim of his eyes.

Tord's grandma had died.

Heart attack at age fifty-four.

Tord was only seven.

Tord remembered that was the only day they let the cat inside the house. Its tongue was rough, but Tord let the cat lick him anyways. His father later surrounded himself with a circle of beer bottles as he puffed in a cigar. His mother was draped over his side. Her face was buried in her husband's neck as she shook with tears and sobs. His father's free had rubbed soothing circles into her back as he gazed at the wall parallel to him. His ravished black hair fell in front of his dull blue eyes. Tord's mother's long hair was hanging down her side in a ponytail, the color identical to Tord's now had early gray strands.

He remembers coming down the stairs in the middle of his night for water when he heard his parents' voices. He looked over and saw his mom on her knees by the toilet. Knuckles white from a firm grip as he hugged the bowl, his dad was stood beside her whispering the lyrics to one of her songs. He was running his fingers up and down her back while holding her hair off her neck.

Tord smiled at the memory as Taco came waddling over. He was getting quite fat, Tord must remember to stop giving him so many treats. The Chihuahua dutifully laid down next to Tord's cafe. Tord grabbed his hair from behind his head and lifted it up and off his neck as he quietly tried to sing between surges of vomit.

{-}

A handful of hours later and Tord was ready for the day. He felt he had successfully handled his hangover and was prepared to have a good rest of his Saturday. Sure, it wasn't ideal to start the day by hugging your toilet and vomiting while you pet your dog, but no one's perfect. Tord took a shower and brushed his teeth and got new clothes on once he realized he fell asleep with last nights on. He had a light yellow crew-neck and some black ripped jeans. Tord threw on a Gatsby hat and tethered Taco for a walk.

Tord basically lived downtown, only a property away, seemed close enough. He was aware of quite of few little shops that he could walk and there had to be at least a few places allowed dogs. Right?

Eh, whatever.

Tord pushes open his door and placed Taco down. A red leash and collar marked the dog as Tord's more than the name tag did. As they made their way deeper downtown, Tord realized he forgot to cover his face. In a surge of panic, he ducked into the closest ally way and flipped out.

"Taco! What do I do? Ahh! God, I'm such a ditz! Err!" Tord held Taco up to his face and consulted him, his usual course of action before a panic attack. Tord looked out to find someone staring as they walked by. Tord flushed and placed Taco down, patting the Chihuahua on his head. He then proceeded along the sidewalk, continuing the walk.

It should be fine, right? This wasn't his crummy job, so these aren't crummy people. Riiiight?!

Tord walked passed boutiques and bakeries as he let Taco lead, tugging him to bits of food on the ground but forward nonetheless. The hum of a motorcycle caught Tord's attention and pulled his head in the direction of said noise. He's still a guy, sure he watches the Kardashians and likes very girly things and can't kill spiders, but he's still a guy and therefore likes cars and motorcycles and man stuff...sometimes.

Tord watched the blue Yamaha model rolled up and parked along the street. Taco scratched his leg and barked, calling for Tord's attention. Tord turned and saw a little cafe with glass walls and a little sign that said 'Pet Friendly!' Cool. Tord pushed open the door and saw a few costumers point and coo at Taco. Tord waited in his place in line as a few other patrons waved at Taco.

Tord looked back out to the biker just in time to see them take off their black helmet revealing...

Tom?

Tom!

Tord's eyes must've looked like dinner plates by how big they felt. How the hell do they keep seeing each other around? What the hell is his life? A cliche story! Fuck that!

Tord was practically frozen in time as he blatantly stared at Tom as he walked into the coffee shop Tord and Taco were in with guitar case in hand.

Fucking fantastic.

Tord snapped his neck forward, feeling like he gave himself a good case of whiplash, and moved up in line to order.

Tord had never been a huge fan of coffee until he started living with the gang. Their late-night adventures had him living off of the stuff for a good chunk of time. As Tord ordered, he kept glancing down the line at Tom who was preoccupied with a lady who looked to be at least 70. They seemed to be discussing...her book?

Tord looked at the cover and saw some Stephen King book. Nodding to himself, Tord moved to the pick-up counter.

He waited for his iced caramel latte and 'discretely' stared at Tom.

Alright, maybe it was a little obvious. Once he received his coffee, Tord walked to the front and sat down on a stool that faced the street outside; Taco in his lap. Hoping Tom would just get his order and leave, Tord began nervously petting Taco.

He could practically hear his heartbeat. It bounced around like a vicious game of ping pong, knocking against his ribs, and getting trapped in his throat. His tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth making it hard to concentrate. He gulped down a mouthful of coffee in hopes of riding this strange sensation, but the coffee only seemed to raise his temperature causing a light dusting of red to float onto his cheeks and forehead. Tord was feeling dizzier by the moment, and the music certainly didn't help his headache.

Wait, what?

Tord peeped behind his shoulder to find Tom situated on a stool that was on top of a little stage; strumming his guitar with his mouth hovering above the microphone. Tord was reminded of his slight hangover this morning as he watched the guitarist play, a very serine look settled on his features. Every so often Tom would hum a few notes into the microphone, letting the quiet speakers carry the sound the best it could at its lowest setting. Tord wondered if, perhaps, Tom was just warming up. He didn't recognize the song and the unorganized pattern of humming seemed to back that up. However, Tom soon sang soft words with eyes closed, letting tenderness seep into every syllable.

"Enter sadness, with your rain boots in blue," Tord turned over, mesmerized by the music no doubt, to gazed into Tom's eyes. All the while listening to him sing.

"Since I can remember I've been runnin' from you,

"But this time you sat your ass down with no intent to move,

"You ain't no Blue Healer," His gentle voice lofted through the air and mixed with the smell of pastry and coffee before gingerly caressing Tord. Tord felt Taco hop off his lap and softly 'Ruf!' at Tom, but Tord couldn't pry his gaze away from the man across the room.

He sat there, strumming and sweetly singing as the morning light from the windows glazed his complexion. The old, and tattered stool looked as supportive as a hammer on a toothpick, but it had yet to shake once; its cyan paint chipped along the legs and Tord could see a few shreds laying on the ground. Tom looked ethereal. Tord hadn't even realized when he had started smiling, but he could feel it in the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I've been proud and,

"Lookin' in a mirror that's clouded,

"With smoke keeping me shrouded,

"Believing I'm fine,

"But you wipe clean,

"All of these illusions that ain't me,

"Now you've got me lookin' and I hate me,

"Where is my spine?"

His voice was like an angel. Or the devils, lulling him into a sleepy haze of comfort before attacking; though Tord doubted that. How could someone with such a sweet voice be so violent? Tom continued singing; looking out the window or up at the ceiling, otherwise, his eyes were closed.

"I want to welcome every shadow,

"Instead of taking everyone to battle,

"I'm climbing back up into the saddle."

Tord fluttered his eyes as he watched the peacefulness and beauty of the song affect the room. It was stunning, everything about it was just...stunning.

But something changed. Tom looked up, he hadn't looked at the audience the entire time and locked eyes with Tord. He didn't break the gaze as he kept singing, almost like he could feel Tord staring.

"And now I stand tall,

"Used to think my sorrow was a brick wall,

"Made me want to curl up in a tight ball,

"Self-pity dealer,

"But there's a gate here,

"You can only find it if you wait here,

"Now I'm walkin' through it with my gaze clear,

"Me and the Blue Healer"

Tom strummed and tapped on his guitar as he hummed, just like the beginning. Tord saw him lightly tap his foot against a rod.

"Healer,"

Tom clasped the strings with the neck to silence the song, bringing it to an abrupt ending. Complete opposite mood compared to earlier. Tord watched as people clapped, some even throwing bills into Tom's open guitar case, but Tom wasn't watching them. His voids were dead set on Tord's dull eyes, not letting Tord have a moment of inner peace.

Tord could hear Taco lightly barking, but it sounded muffled and far away. He watched as Tom got up and slung his guitar behind him, making his way to Tord. Squeezing in between tables and pardoning himself as he shuffled by others. Taco ran in a small circle before pointing his nose at Tom.

"Tor-ah!" Tord looked down to find Taco bite Tom's leg, albeit a very small and harmless bite but a bite nonetheless. Tom blew air through his teeth as an eye twitched. He looked down at Taco, "Cheeky little thing, aren't you?"

Tom kneeled and plucked the dog up, holding him in his arms awkwardly. He turned to the baristas and mouthed something at them while walking toward the door. Tord quickly got up, remembering that's his dog that Tom was walking away with, and went outside with Tom.

Once outside, Tord watched Tom put Taco down, watching the way his shoulder blades moved from behind. The guitarist turned around and studied Tord. He eyed the smaller man head to toe, eyes lingering a moment longer on Tord's face than he liked. Suddenly, Tom pressed his palm into Tord's chest, hard.

"Wha...?" Tord glances at the hand before looking to Tom for answers. Tom looked puzzled. He pinched the fabric of Tord's shirt, rubbing his fingers on it.

"Oh my god." Tom's exclamation mixed with the calm breeze, distorting it slightly but not beyond comprehension.

"Holy shit!" Tom looked up to Tord, slightly laughing in disbelief. Tom cupped Tord's face and smiled at him, before slapping his across the face.

"Bloody-! What was that for?" Tord cradled his left cheek, burning sensation of the slap never fading. Tom grumbled; crossing his arms as he watched Tord.

"What the fuck! Everyone thought you were dead! I thought you were dead! And now you're, what, just walking around? The fuck around you doing? Why didn't you tell anyone, why didn't you tell us? We all thought I'd killed you!" Tom shouted. His eyes seemed glassy, not from sadness but anger. Tord only blinked.

"Why would I tell you?" Taco bit at Tom's jeans and tugged in a friendly manner, but despite the dog's pulling he didn't get any recognition. Tom made an agitated noise in the back of his throat before looking away and shrugging.

"Nothing has changed I see. Still an arrogant asshole, huh? Guess it's hard to bad break habits."

Tord stepped forward, fists curled into balls. "I-" He sighed, closing his eyes. "I thought you hated me?" His uncurled his fists.

When no response came Tord looked up to find Tom staring at him in silence. It was a thick, uncomfortable silence. "I thought I did too."

A chilling breeze blew Tord's hair into his eyes. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, turning his body away from his old housemate. The sky was a bleak gray, and the trees shook with rage. It seemed as though the forecast had been wrong if the stormclouds were anything to go by.

"Shit."

"What?"

Tom looked at his motorcycle and then back at the clouds. "I think it might rain."

Tord rolled his eyes, "No shit, Sherlock."

Tom put his hand up, signaling Tord to stay put as he ran back inside. When he returned, he had his guitar case behind his back and helmet in hand. "I need to take off now, I don't wanna ride home through that storm." He walked over to his bike, Tord following behind, and swung his leg over to mount it. The loud hum of the motor filled Tord's ears as Tom adjusted his helmet back on his head. Tord watched him lift the face shield to study Tord, muttering 'Well, son of a bitch.' before giving a lousy salute and speeding off. Going over the speed limit.

Taco barked at the exhaust smoke that filled the spot where Tom's bike was. A couple of drops landed on Tord's head as it began pouring down rain. The right side of his face began to itch slightly, he kept his eyes on the floor as he ran home; Taco in his hold.

{-}

Who sits on their couch on a Sunday afternoon gazing at a contact number they hadn't texted in forever?

Tord. Tord does. Because that's what he's doing right now.

The springs from the old couch are lumpy and painful on his ass, but he sits. His eyes are watering from the amount of time he goes without blinking, just staring at his phone in the dimly lit room, but he stares.

Tom's name is accompanied by 7 different emojis. Beer, rat, sick face, etc. All the classics for Tom. His profile picture was an edited photo. He was surrounded by market brands and stupid meme icons. Thug life glasses were poorly put on his face as he knelt beside a trash can, holding up a double peace sign. It was shocking that he held his seriousness throughout a photoshoot with a trashcan, but he was just that professional.

Tord shakily pressed his index finger against the text icon, the format popping up immediately. Startled, Tord blinked away a tear, letting the drop run down his cheek. He brought his thumbs up to the screen and tried his best at texting,

' Hlleo old Frend! I knwo you tol me to contac you, so I amm doing that now. Is therr something yuo needed form em?'

Hitting send before you correct your spelling really showed it's pitiful appearance.

Fuck autocorrect! Only coming out when it isn't wanted and not when it is!

A 'Read at 2:47 pm' flashed at the bottom in gray. Tord sucked in sharply as he watched his screen. As soon as he saw those three, bouncing dots appear Tord threw his phone across the room with a yelp. He curled into a little ball as he watched Taco run-up to his phone, sniffing his black case. The stickers were curling up, he would have to replace them soon.

He nearly fell off the couch when he heard that all too familiar 'ding!' He tiptoed his way to the offending object, picking it up with his index and thumb, holding it an arm's length away from him. Tord plopped back down on the couch, peeping through one eye to look at the message.

'the fuck? are you high rn?'

Tord snorted in his throat as he scrolled through the emojis. Most people wouldn't suspect, but he's the kind of person who way overuses emojis.

'🙃 noooo 👻'

Tom must've been waiting in the chat because Tord's message was immediately read.

'fucking weirdo

'you still obsessed with emojis i see'

A smiled situated itself in the corner of Tord's mouth as he brought his knees to his chest, covering them with his hoodie. it was a new one, light yellow.

'😋🤓🤯😤🤤

'🧀🐀👨🍳'

'is that fucking Ratatouille?' Tord could hear the eyeroll in his text, shuffling around in his spot as he got comfortable.

'👁👄👁

'maybe'

The three dots danced under his text for a while, until they disappeared shortly, only to come back just as quickly.

'bet

'where are you right now?'

Tord perked up at that, smile turning into a slack-jaw expression. Tord generally made fun of mouth breathers, but he would make an exception this time. Because... what?! Did Tom just fucking imply that he wanted to hangout with Tord? Um...what?

'on a 🛋

'spoiler alert; it's my couch 😋'

Read at 2:54 pm

Tom didn't respond for a minute, not even the reassurance of the jumping dots came. Tord waited a minute more and was about to turn off his phone before it vibrated in his hand.

'can i come over?'

'yuh'

'location sent'

'vroom your ass over here 🏍 💨 '

'im coming dork...

'thanks'

Tord didn't realize he was smiling until his jaw felt sore. He glanced at his apartment, finding a disappointing mess scattered around. Was it always this cluttered?

Tord huffed as he stood up. Time to get to work.

He pulled his hair into the smallest-ponytail-know-to-mankind before he started cleaning up. Picking up all his scattered clothes and dumping them into a laundry basket in his bedroom. Collecting the 17 glasses and water bottles from his room and bringing them to the sink. Washing the dirty dishes that had been piling up. Spraying a shit-ton of Febreze all over his small-ass apartment.

He walked past his reflection in the mirror and literally shit himself. Hell no.

Is that what he looked like? And Tom was coming over? Mmmmmm, how about no.

He pulled off his clothes before almost tripping into the shower, his cuts and scars tingled from the warm water hitting the delicate skin. He grabbed his vanilla and shea butter shampoo bar (Tord has been trying to be more eco-friendly, get off his back) smothering it into his hands before making a mohawk with the sudds. His music was interrupted by a notification. Tord pulled his phone into the shower with him, reading the message.

'im here

'what floor, what number?

'btw, it looks like a dump'

'3rd floor, number 15'

'kay

'omw'

He put his phone back on the toilet seat, scrubbing his hair a little faster now. A few sudds of soap fell into Tords, and with a yelp, he stubbed his toe.

"Shit! Ow- ow ow ow ow ow!"

Tord blinked rapidly, trying to rid the sting from his eye, as he blindly reached for his body soap. He lathered the lemon-scented bar onto his hands before running them up and down his body, going gently on his right side to avoid and extra irritation.

Distance by Christina Perri played from his phone just as he climbed out of the shower, reaching for his towel and as luck would have it that's just when he heard a loud know at his door. A dusting of blush made its way to his cheeks as he rubbed his hair with the towel, making his way to the door.

He wrapped the blue bath sheet around his body before opening his door.

"Tor- holy shit!" Tom slapped a hand over his eyes. "Do you always answer the door with no clothes on!"

Tord giggled as he led Tom inside by his writs, shutting the door behind him.

"Only for you, Tom. Open your eyes, you're making me feel illegal." Tom reluctantly let his hand drop, eyes everywhere but Tord. "It's nice in here. Clean. I thought it would be a dump, the building sure is."

Tord hummed in agreement, leading Tom to his bedroom. Tom sat on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, as Tord changed into his clothes from before.

"So you wanted to come over?"

Tom hummed in response before he shook his head, seeming to try and clear his mind. "Yeah, Edd and Matt came into my apartment and started whining about how I have a job and pay my bills and do adult things and don't have time to go on 'adventures' with them anymore. You know how they get about that shit." Tord nodded as he pulled up his joggers.

"Then when I told them that, they got mad saying that I am free but chose to go to bars instead of spend time with them, and I'm sitting there like 'The fuck? I can do whatever the fuck I wanna do in my free time, it's mine.' Like I love them, but sometimes I just- ugh! I just wish they didn't live next door. You know?"

"No, I get it."

Tord blew noisily out of his nose as a response, "Got Ratatouille on DVD?"

"Yes?"

"Pop that bitch in. I'll make popcorn...if you got it?" Tord nodded as they headed into the kitchen/living room.

"Fuck yeah!"

{-}

The buttery smell of popcorn floated through the air as the sound of Ratatouille filled the room. It was almost 40 minutes into the film and somehow that popcorn was still warm, Tord thought it must've been the way, Tom made it. They had officially raided Tord's pantry, the multitude of junk food bags and drink laying on and around the couch and coffee table proved that. Tom and Tord's fingers were stained red from the Fiesta Sized Takis bag the was between them, and the roof of Tom's mouth was supposedly burned from the fucking random-ass hot chocolate he decided to make from scratch 10 minutes ago.

Over the course of the movie, Tord has been scooting closer to the middle. To the snacks, duh. If Tom happened to be right next to them, then so be it. Tord noticed Tom had been glancing over at him ever since Colette stabbed Linguini's shirt to the cutting board, and now he was blatantly staring.

"You know, some people think staring is rude," Tord stated as he stuffed another Takis in his mouth.

"Do you?"

"No, I'm used to it. What's buggin'?"

Tom shuffled a little, they only thing stopping the pair form being side-by-side was the bowl of popcorn and bag of Takis between them.

"How did you get all those scars and stuff?"

Tord turned to stare at Tom in confusion. Tom didn't laugh or smile after that, his face was totally serious.

Tord's arm and faced itched. He didn't scratch it.

"You seriously don't know?"

Tom snorted, rearing his head back. "No, I seriously don't. That's why I ask, dumbass."

Tord's eyebrows met as he stared at Tom, "You gave them to me. From the harpoon." Tom's teasing expressions faltered as he gazed back at Tord with-with... Tord didn't know. He was never the best at reading people, and he was never really close to Tom so he didn't know his facial expression that well. But the way Tom was staring at him made his stomach ache the way all the junk food didn't. His eyes were turned down and his lips were pouty.

The look didn't sit well with Tord. It made his skin aflame with the desire to itch, his restraint becoming less and less concrete.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I-" Tom let out a half-sigh half-huff as he pinched his eyes shut. "Look Tord, I- that day. That day was fucked up. I think we both did some pretty shitty things that we regret, and-well. What I'm trying to say is, ugh. Sorry? Yeah."

Tord felt a wave a nausea pass over him as his eyes shook, "Yeah, me t-too. I, I really fucked up a-and I'm sorry. For everything." Tord managed around the lump in his throat.

"Want to, I don't know, try again? Some corny shit like that?"

"Do you think people like us could? With all, I've put you through, with all I've been through?"

Tom bit his lip, "I don't think it'll be easy getting over a near-death experience, but I'd like to try. Getting along, that is."

Tord smiled and nodded, "Remember in grade school when we were, like, best friends."

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

Tom looked back at the movie, despite looking elsewhere Tord could tell Tom was still focused on him. "Fucking life, I guess."

A chilling silence passed over the two as Tord shuffled closer.

"Wanna touch it?"

"Ooh, yes please."

{-}

At precisely 12:23 am, Tom and Tord had thrown up at least twice. Shit a handful of times and broken a plate. Taco munched on forgotten potato chips as the pair sleepily argued about pudding. Chocolate pudding.

They had watched a list of Disney movies, but Princess and the Frog played in the background.

"It's fucking disgusting! How do you eat that shit!" Tom yelled, rubbing his eyes as he pointed a harsh finger at the cup in Tord's hand. "I scoop it with a spoon and then shove it in my mouth," Tord blearily example.

"See?" He asked around a mouth full of pudding.

"Ew! Don't be a smartass, I mean why?"

"It's good."

Tom's face screwed up in distaste. "No, it isn't."

Tord huffed, chocolate pudding dotted the corners of his mouth from past failed attempts at bites. "Well then, Mr.High-and-Mighty, what do you like?"

Tom turned to Tord with the most dead-ass face he's ever seen and straight-up said, "Black licorice."

Tord spits some of his pudding out. "What! I have a psychopath in my apartment! Oh my god, you're an alien! That's it, I knew it!"

"Am not! Black licorice is actually good, I bet you'd like it if you tried it."

"Well I don't have any lying around, I don't even like the stuff!"

Tom crossed his arms, pouting. He mocked Tord under his breath until he got and idea. "We should go buy some!"

Tord looked at him like he had three heads. "Where! Where are we gonna go to get that, mh?"

"Gas station shit, please. You can ride on my motorcycle?"

Tord feigned a quizzical countenance, tapping his finger on the edge of his lips. "Are you a good driver?"

Tom barked out a harsh laugh, standing and pushing Tord over. "Am I am good- Of course I am! Come on, sweet tooth, let's get you some real candy." Tom emphasizes himself by slapping a hand on Tord's back, leading him to the front door.

"Keys!"

"Keys," Tom turned around, snatching the keys and his wallet before barging out of the apartment with Tord next to him.

Tord drowsily looked down the hallway, the stained walls were peeling up at the top and bottom, and the carpet had a number of questionable stains decorating the horrid thing.

"I live in a dump."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Tord's mouth formed a line as he shoved Tom with his shoulder. "Race you to your bike?"

"You're on."

{-}

"I totally fucking beat you!"

"Nuh-uh! I got here first."

"Pshhh, lame."

Tord bit his lip as he studied the machine, was it safe to ride something so...open? Tord was sure there was, like, a gazillion safety hazards. Should he really get on it? With the shape, he's in? Sure, they're mostly scars and scabs, but some of them could break open easily, and did he really wanna risk that for some fucking black licorice? But when Tom looked at him that way, with those eyes.

"You okay?"

Black licorice seemed a lot more important all of a sudden.

"Yeah, let's fucking go!"

Tom handed Tord his helmet and mounted the bike, "Why aren't you wearing a helmet?"

"My bike."

"What if we crash?"

"We won't."

"How do you know?"

"Tord, just-ughh. Get on. I'm a good driver, remember?" Tord nodded as he lifted the helmet to his head, pushing it securely down over his head. Tom mounted the bike with ease, but Tord struggled to climb into the backseat correctly. After the two were situated, Tord suddenly realized he had no. Fucking. Idea. What he was supposed to hold onto. Surely Tom didn't want Tord to touch him, so wrapping his arms around the driver was out of the question. Tord doesn't even know any other way to keep yourself from flying out into the highway while riding passenger on a motorcycle. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should suggest getting into his shitty little car, despite knowing full well it is just as messy, if not more, than his apartment. Maybe Tom wouldn't even see it? It was late after-all, there is a chance he could totally overlook it.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

Despite not facing Tom, Tord could hear his eyes roll in his sigh. "Are you gonna hold on, or would you prefer to fly off the bike?"

"O-oh, yeah. Right. I'll just, mm-hmm." Tord wrapped his arms around Tom's torso, trying not to come into contact too much. Tom hummed as he started the motor, quickly taking off. A strange noise came out of Tord's mouth as he clutched onto Tom.

{-}

"This tastes fucking disgusting!"

"What! No, you're just...eating it wrong." Tom pulled another piece of licorice out of the bag that sat, propped up, against his leg. Tord noticed how Tom's piercings reflected the glowing signs from the 711 that was behind them. Sitting on the curd, he realized the concrete was indeed painful. Stubbornly, Tord audibly shut his mouth; shaking his head and crossing his arms.

"Come on, open up!" Tord closed his eyes, screwing his face into an angry expression. "Please, for me?"

Tord flicked one eye open and looked Tom up and down. He uncrossed his arms and reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone. Tom watched, puzzled, as Tord scrolled and typed lighting fast. Once done, Tord put it down and watched Tom with a smuggle look. Tom felt a ding and glanced at his phone.

Tord

'😈

'no.

'👁👄👁

'😤'

"Aw, come on. Pretty please?" Tord took a deep breath in, mouth open, and a pointed finger in the air ready to lay down the law only to have a handful of licorice shoved in his mouth. Tom nodded as he manually forced Tord to chew. "Yup, mhmm. And swallow."

Tord's nose bunched in disgust and gracefully spit the mouthful of licorice onto Tom's face. "Ew, fucking gross!" Tom rose a fist in the air when he heard Tord snicker. "Why you-"

Tord felt another cooling night breeze blow-by and shuddered. Tom's fist slowly fell as he watched, shortly taking off his jacket and laying it over Tord's shoulders. Tord found it a few sizes too big for him, but comfortable all the same. The zipper looked jammed and the letter fraying, "How the fuck did you get a lettermen jacket?"

"A lot you missed."

Tord scoffed, "Clearly. Last time I checked you couldn't throw a frisbee to save your life." A huff of amusement left Tom's mouth, and Tord felt an involuntary smile creep on his face. A warm sensation briefly blocked out the cold. "Guess we should head back?"

Tord scoffed, "Yeah, drop me off but you should get to your place." Tom rolled his eyes in response, pulling his phone out to check the time.

"It's not even that late-Holy shit! Edd's gonna kill me!" Tom grabbed the bag of licorice and quickly stood. "Oh? What happened to 'Mr. It's-my-free-time'? You know, that whole bit about doing whatever you want."

Tom jabbed Tord in the chest, "Watch it."

Tord snarled and grabbed Tom's finger. "You watch it." Tom shook out of his grasp.

"Whatever. Put the helmet on so we can go."

"Are you staying over?"

"Huh?" Tom was sitting on his bike waiting for Tord, looking at him puzzled. "Are you going home or are you staying over? Thought you wanted to get away from everyone."

Tom wrinkled his nose up, "Yeah, but unlike some people I come back. Get your ass over here, and put on that fucking helmet. I won't tell you again."

Tord's gripped on the helmet tightened as he slipped it on once again, going over and mounting the bike, reluctantly wrapping his arms around Tom. The ride back to Tord's apartment was quiet except for the radio and engines of other vehicles. Tord occasionally glanced up at Tom the best he could, watching his hair whip around in the wind. Maybe this was a bad idea altogether, they didn't have the best history after all. Nothing every good comes out of having Tom and Tord together. Tord squeezed onto Tom's torse as he sped to his dumping old building.

The licorice definitely wasn't worth it.

{-}

Tord had finished cleaning up his and Tom's mess about ten minutes ago, now out of the shower and in bed petting Taco did he even let the entire night sink in. What the fuck? God, that was so embarrassing! And wayyy to weird.

Why did they hang out, they hated each other, right? Right? God, Tord was just so confused he didn't know what to do. Taco smacked his dog lips before crawling off Tord's stomach in favor of laying next to him. Tord slowly got to his feet and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take his pills. He pissed while he brushed his teeth, hoping to speed things up so he could just go to bed.

Honestly, did he really let Tom ruin his last weekend day? Great, he has work tomorrow.

Woohoo. Can't wait.

Tord slipped off his pants and pulled on an oversized nightshirt. It was orange tie-dye and had the name of a donut shop on the back. Obnoxious, yes. But it made for a good sleeping shirt. As Tord set his alarm and scrolled through his music playlists, he got a text.

Tom

'sorry

'night loser'

Tord grinned as he picked a random playlist, responding as quickly as he could.

'😛

'i hope you have nightmares 🤡😴👻'

Chapter Text

It finally happened.

Tord starting looking for another job. He realized that if he ever wanted to be on his feet again, he would have to put some actual effort in. He still worked at Sheetz (you can't just quit if you don't have another job, that's just fucking stupid) but on break, he would surf the internet for available jobs and attended interviews over the weekend.

If Tord had to sum up the whole experience in one word; it would be hard. Because it was really, really hard. He's aware many people say the same thing about job hunting, but have you ever been told that you're aren't qualified for a job because of the scars you bare from a traumatic, life-altering accident.

No?

Well, Tord has.

And no, it isn't great to be told that you're too ugly to work here because we don't want to scare away all our customers with your monster face, thanks, have a nice day.

It has been two weeks of this, this endless merry go round of feeling better only to be slammed back into the ground. His arm aches and swears he can feel blood drip, drip, driping down his skin, but when he turns to inspect he is met with nothing but his ugly, uneven layers of poorly healed skin.

He feels like an onion, and not in the sense that he has emotional layers, but more in the sense that he has physical layers. Like, you can rip off layers upon layer of skin and blood and guts and bones, but he won't ever go away. No matter how fast you rip and tear at him, he remains.

It's tiring, to say the least, having to sew his layers back on, hide the monster underneath the blood-soaked and gut ridden skin. Annoyingly, he always pricks his finger on the needle. A bright red bead (always brighter than he remembers) rolls down his finger until it drops onto the floor with a disturbing tic.

He also cried. Like, a lot. So...

It had been a solid two weeks since he had seen Tom. Nothing had happened since. Not even a text and frankly, Tord was grateful. He had been swamped with balancing his current job, job searching, and personal affairs. His apartment looked straight out of hell. Books, stray papers, blankets, and clothes were thrown around the floor and furniture. Just thinking about all the cleaning Tord has to do gives him chills.

Currently, Tord was waiting for his fries in a drive-through. He had just picked up more of his medication from the pharmacy downtown and decided to grab a little food on his way back. Tord hadn't expected it to be this busy, but he really wanted those fries and now that he could smell them there was no going back.

A ding interrupted his music, pulling his attention down to his phone that was situated in the cupholder. He perked up, bringing his face away from his hand once he recognized Tom's name on the text notification.

'hey loser'

'how eloquent'

'shut the fuck up'

'😝'

'i swear to god

'you act like a toddler'

Tord huffed a laugh as he scooted up in line, window insight.

'whats up?'

The three dots bounced for a while as Tord waiting, returning to leaning his face on his hand. They disappeared for a while but quickly came back.

A honk from the car behind his made Tord jerk and put his phone down, throwing a courtesy wave their way. He moved ahead to the pay window and pulled out a five-pound bill. The teenager at the window was short and stout, her blond bob framed her sweet face, braced shining in Tord's eyes. She turned and asked for the money, eyes only flicking over Tord's scars.

"Here,"

"Oh, what an interesting accent."

"Yeah, I'm from Norway."

She nodded, disinterested, as she plucked a few coins from the register, counting his change. "That's cool. Here is your change. Have a nice day!"

Tord let the change fall into his hand, dumping them into his middle consol compartment with his other coins. "You too." Now, time for more waiting. Yay. Tord felt his phone vibrated in his lap a couple of times. He flipped it over and scanned Tom's texts.

'well

'long story short

'i was writing some songs with my band and they didn't like one of the lines of lyrics I wrote and wanted me to change it

'and im standing here like "I am the lead singer and started this band, I can write what I fucking want" but noooooo

'so we got into a fight and I went home feeling like a piece of shit'

Tord felt his lips curve downward, the headlights of the car behind him shown brightly in his mirrors but he couldn't bring himself to care more than he did about responding.

'fuck em

'you should be able to write whatever you want'

'i know!

'they just act like children sometimes I swear

'anyway I was wondering if I could come over?'

Tord crept forward in line as he remembered the absolute trashy-ass mess his apartment was. Grimacing, he reluctantly texted back.

'😬

'could we actually go to yours?'

'whats wrong

'dont want me to see your porn stash?

'you literally answered the door naked last time, may I remind you'

'🙄

'no, you perv

'its like super messy'

'fine

'do I need to pick you up?'

'😥😬

'im gonna be home in a few minutes but sure

'🏍💨

'OMG is your bikes exhaust just motorcycle farts?'

Read at 5:46 pm

'wtf is wrong with you

'weirdo'

Tord grinned, putting his phone down and pulled up to the window, and grabbed his fries. The employee exchanged a quick word with Tord as he drove away, deciding that his clothes weren't acceptable for Tom to see him in.

{-}

Tom's apartment complex was nice. Maybe Tord just thought that because he was so used to seeing shit all the time that when he saw something decent he thought it was, like, Gucci or some shit. This was a fucking Gucci apartment complex, wasn't it? The stairwell didn't have any mysterious splatters or holes, unlike Tord's, and it thankfully didn't smell of flaming shit.

"Reveling in my complex's non-shittyness?"

Tord rolled his eyes as he drove his elbow into Tom's side. "I thought artists didn't make much?"

"We don't. I have another job, dummy." Tord grunted as they climbed the stairs, turning into the second-floor door. They trod down the corridor to Tom's room, kicking condom wrappers and discarded plastic forks as they went.

"Sorry, Uhm, my neighbors like to... get busy." Tom nervously chuckled as they passed a few empty Trojan boxes and wrappers.

Tord rose a brow, "You don't?"

Tom emitted an awkward, little coughed and pulled out his keys. "Well, it's uh- not like I don't like to. I just..."

"...you just?" Tord inquired.

Another cough, "Don't get around to it." Tord inspected the gold-painted numbers that formed a '23' on the door as Tom inserted his keys and unlocking the apartment.

The door opened to reveal a decently sized apartment. It was bigger than Tord's for sure, and knowing that made Tord blush with embarrassment. Was it that obvious he was poor? Jeez. Tom lead him inside before going to the kitchen and putting his phone, keys, and wallet on the counter. He hung his helmet on a hook by the door and Tord copied with the spare one he held. It was quite tidy, save for a few shoes and empty bottles that were lying astray, and Tord couldn't help but compare it to his own home.

"Well, this is pretty much it." Tom threw his arms out on both sides, gesturing to his apartment.

Tord hummed as he scanned the bigger-than-his apartment while standing awkwardly by the door. Tom chuckled nervously, "Don't just stand there, weirdo. Let watch another movie or something." Tom itched the back of his neck as he led them to his couch. It reminded Tord of how Tom acted when they were younger.

Tom sat down and kicked his feet on the coffee table, grabbing the remote in the process. Tord followed suite. The tiny couch required them to be closer than they anticipated, but Tord tried to ignore that in favor of staring at the television. It buzzed to life and the room was immediately filled with the unforgettable sounds of a porno. Tom and Tord both straightened up as an embarrassed heat crawled up their necks. Tom quickly flicked to the next channel, Gordon Ramsay's voice filled the room in replacement.

Tord wrung his hands together before dropping them into his lap, "Don't get around to it, huh?" Tom released and uncomfortable laugh that turned into a sigh, he flipped through a few more channels until Back To The Future came on.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Didn't want me to see your porn stash?" Tord recited, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh, come off it."

Tord whipped his head back around to the tv, "Don't be embarrassed, Tom. It's not like you're the only person who watches porn."

Tom all but huffed from Tord's right and a strange silence fell over the pair. Tom itched the back of his neck. Tord refused to itch his arm. He could faintly hear the undeniable sound of a mattress repeatedly hitting a wall in the distance. Probably down the hallway.

"You weren't kidding."

"Nope," Tom popped the 'p' as he kicked his feet onto the small, messy coffee table. Tord found his eyes wandering over the room in favor of watching Marty McFly's mom flirt with him. A few hoodies and straying objects were haphazardly strewn across the floor but in comparison to Tord's disaster of an apartment, it was tidy. There weren't many photographs around but the ones that Tord did see were primarily ones he recognized from the old house.

Tom didn't seem to have a sense of decoration either if the random ornamental bowls sitting on the countertops and absurd abstract prisms were anything to go by. While the chaotic decore was distracting, it was unpleasant. The mismatching designs mixed surprisingly well, especially considering how close that marron bowl was to that golden star-shaped octahedron.

Wow.

If Tord lived here, it would look a lot different. Maybe not a ton, but he would definitely have a few things on his list to change. For instance, at the top of his list would be cleaning this motherfucker up.

And yeah, that may be a little hypocritical of him at the moment, but Tord was a tidy person. Just because he's a little busy with his life currently doesn't me it defines who he is and how he likes to live.

He needs a neatly organized space to work in, always has. Even all the way back in school he remembers having all his pencils and pens in their predetermined spots. Despite his best attempts at being repaired for school, nothing could have been more challenging considering his limited English vocabulary. Tord had never been a bright student per se, but he wasn't stupid. Far from it, he was one of the most intelligent kids in their grade, but his mind tended to wander and he often found class boring, therefore, deeming it unimportant. It didn't take a lot for Tord to get distracted, unfortunately for him.

It wasn't a shock when the doctors diagnosed Tord with ADHD at 10, however, the label appeared to make all the difference to everyone else. Teachers started giving him warm-up sheets while the rest of the class chatted, waiting for class to begin. He also noticed how they began drawing pictures on the board and way overdoing their hand gestures.

Tord would be lying if he said it wasn't obnoxious. Though their actions could be perceived as acts of kindness and compassion direct from their puny little teacher hearts, the extra effort often speculated as more of a hindrance than anything else. Despite all the challenges, having ADHD did have its perks. He always received special treatment from the staff and could basically do anything he wanted.

But that's not important because it's not like Tord would ever live here anyhow. Living with Tom. Ha, what a laugh! Like that would ever happen.

Tord turned back to study Tom's profile. There were definitely some new piercings and scars. Little scars, that speckled his face. One on his cheekbone, another through his eyebrow, and one trailing thinly down his jawline.

He remembered a few, but he wasn't foolish enough to say that non were new. As he studied Tom's profile more, he wondered if the scar through his eyebrow had been intentional. It seems too strange a spot to be an accident.

"You know, some people think staring is rude," Tom parroted from a few weeks ago, eyes still tracking the television.

Tord flushed at the memory of his own words now being used back at him.

"Do... do you?" Tord recited from his memory.

Tom smirked as he turned to face Tord. The soft glow from the tv made his features softer than Tord remembered them being.

"No,"

{-}

He didn't mean for this to happen. He really, really didn't. It all happened so quickly Tord felt like a tornado had crashed into the apartment. Spinning and spinning and spinning until Tord was dizzy from its turns.

Naturally, who would want their old rival (turned friend?), witness them having a panic attack, much less one caused by a PTSD triggered memory?

It was stupid. So so stupid. It was one of those promotional advertisements to join the military. He didn't think he had such an issue with his past experiences in the army and fighting in undocumented wars and battles, but he had been proven wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

At the time, Tord hadn't been bothered by the many, many deaths of his comrades. It was, after all, very common in their sort of work field. Death was tangible, real, and especially typical. Near every day a handful of lives were taken from them. Pitying the mourners wasn't on the daily agenda. Living in tight quarter spaces for an undeniably long period of time was already a challenge in itself, but to be dehumanized by witnessing the processes of human decay every single day didn't really bug Tord. It didn't bug anyone else, so why should it upset Tord?

It wasn't like he had a personally connected with Mark or Johnny or Marianne or Leon or Janet or Samuel or-

He didn't know them and didn't owe them their memory or some shit. He didn't have to and certainly hadn't planned too, but breaking into an unscheduled sobbing session the accompanied an erotic and troublesome breathing pattern wasn't planned either, and look at him now; curled up in a ball by the toilet bowl with a seemingly concerned Tom by his side, rubbing soothing circles into his back and holding up his hair.

No one's done that for him before.

Does he normally throw up when he gets extremely overwhelmed? He is now, anyhow. The bile rose from his stomach and quickly slithered up his throat like a match to a fuse. Tord hates throwing up, but in all seriousness who likes it? Who could possibly enjoy the feeling of their organs squeezing and surging and pulsating abnormally? Who could possibly relish in the delightful feeling of once swallowed food being turned outward in a mixture of stomach acid and heavily altered food remains.

No one comes to mind.

Because who fucking likes throwing up!

"-ey hey. You're okay. I'm here, look at me. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. You're okay-"

Tom was sweet.

It's not just anyone who would forgive their nemesis/almost-murderer. It takes a special kind of compassionate person to look past one's past mistakes and present flaws. Not the faking compassion that the 'kind teachers' showed Tord. Not like Ms. Clawson, who would often low-key ostracize and diss Tord in the middle of class.

Like, it was enough to live with himself, he didn't need her to point it out to others with comments such as 'pair up but don't feel pressured. I know not all of us have an easy time with that sort of thing' or 'I am aware that a certain someone in here has a certain issue so instead of my planned assignment, I decided we'll being doing something different.' He especially didn't need this during his sophomore year of high school, which just so happened to be the worst grade he endured during his entire school experience. Because juggling his suicidal thoughts with his depressive episodes and anger outbursts could never go unaccompanied from his jarring ADHD. Which, by the way, has been served and documented to be in at least six of every ten children so Tord didn't (and still doesn't) even understand how it could ever cause such a disruption. If anything, the teachers' reaction was ten times worst than anything Tord could have possibly done.

So yeah, Tord was damn grateful for Tom at this moment because he was sure as hell couldn't think of one reason why Tom would feel even remotely in need of repaying Tord for anything. In fact, if he knew anything at all he knew that it was he himself who owed a whole fucking lot to Tom, and this random act of kindness only added to that list.

"-ook at me, come on. Breathe with me- look just- I know I know. Look at me, I'm he-"

Tord didn't deserve this. He really, really didn't. If Tord deserved anything it would be a fat slap across his face and a boot out of the building. So why, why was Tom being so-

"-op! Stop it! Look at me, please. Don't say that kind of stuff! Please look at m-"

Is Tord talking out loud? He can't hear himself if he is. How funny. A little fuzzing buzzing noise slowly rang like church bells from ear to ear in Tord's head, blocking out any sensible sounds he could have heard before. It completely washed out Tom's pleas and support, and the soft sound of Marty McFly playing his guitar at the Under the Sea dance. It was funny. Tord never did go to prom. Was it everything everyone said it was? Was it truly the best night of their lives and did he truly miss out on something 'totally dope'?

Tord tried to focus on the soft, massaging hands that pressed and poked at his shoulders and upper back. He didn't have the heart (or physical strength and emotional stamina) to tell Tom it was slightly too hard and only slightly hurt. He could tell it would be sore for a short while after this encounter. Tord wondered how much of a hindrance Tom must see him as now. Wondered when the last time he took his Ritalin was and when his next meal was going to be. Wondered if Tom had Netflix on top of cable, and if so what kind of job did he have on top of his two singing jogs because that's actually a lot of money to have just for 'shits and giggles' and how poor Tord must look to him because all he can afford is cable that doesn't even broadcast any remotely decent channels because he just sucks that much or-

"Jesus fucking Christ. I don't give a shit that you only have cable. Please look at me." Tom said as he rubbed (pounded) on Tord's back.

Tord raised his dull eyes to Tom's black ones. The thin scratch along his jaw was almost unnoticeable in this weird from-the-hallway lightening that they were dealing with, but it still sat discoverable just where Tord had last seen it. It's funny how someone so textbook-description intimidating can look so soft and small. Like he was trying to show Tord that he wasn't alone in his feels. That, yeah, maybe he was a tad fucked up, and maybe he needed a little bit of help, but he was okay. Not mentally (or emotionally for that matter), but his thoughts and feelings were okay. They weren't a hindrance or an obstacle to overcome like Ms. Clawson made him think they were, or any of his teachers made him think they were.

It's okay for him to still be shaken up from seeing Janet's head get blown off right next to Mark's motionless body whose chest was leaking a deep, crimson all over the patchy ground.

It's okay to not have cable and Netflix because he didn't make a ton of money from working at a fucking gas station.

It's okay to have to take medication to be able to look at someone for more than five minutes.

It's okay to just be. And that's all he needs to do. Just be.

"You have really pretty eyes," Tord gasped out as he seemed to be sucked into the endless voids that were Tom's eyes. They looked light the night sky when clouds were askey, blocking the shining stars or the glimmering moon. They looked like the lens of cameras, though it was strange to be able to see Tom's pupils dilate despite them being the same fucking color as his iris and sclera.

The sound of Tom's snort relieved Tord the way a dehydrated kid would feel after a whole day of playing in the heat, finally getting a tall, iced drink of water. His lungs suddenly release a giant breath only to suck in one the same size, but it was circulating and he was breathing and he was okay.

"They're fucking black, man. Not much to look at," Tord looked down at the strange tiles of the bathroom, embarrassed that his comment was getting analyzed. He made shapes of the abnormal scuff patterns.

A cows head, a Christmas sock, a plate of spaghetti, and a dog that looked like Taco but ten times fluffier.

He felt the ghost of a finger rush against his cheek as the hand on his back stilled.

"Unlike yours." Tom sounded quiet. Strangely quiet. Tom was a loud person by nature. He was a singer (a damn good one at that), he was built for being loud and it wasn't in his nature to whisper so sweetly, so softly like he was now.

Tord didn't consciously raise his head, in fact, he tried to keep his gaze at the ground, but it was like some external force demanded that he look back at Tom. Commanded him to whip his head so fast he would have gotten motion sickness in any other circumstance. It's normally a struggle for Tord to find his word's in any social setting, but this-this... whatever this thing is. He definitely couldn't have prepared himself for it. Not if you gave him a million years.

When one can't come up with a response, said person often leaves the space blank or ends the conversation. Nothing more to be said, nothing more to be done. But you can't just leave something like that open-ended. Not when something like that came from someone like Tom. Not when something like thatwas said by someone like Tom who had that kind of expression on his face.

That endearing, fond expression on his face was only ever given to Tord by his mom or his dad, and those were on rare occasions (from his dad, his mom gave Tord that face very often). Was it normal for another person, other than a family member, to gaze at him like that? Like at that moment, there was only ever Tord?

The sound of a plane flying above them was audible over the television and the bed softly creaking from the other room and the slight buzzing in Tord's ear.

Tord never liked silence much. It always seemed too... silent. Too quiet. Ha, imagine thinking silence was too quiet. It always felt sticky and unkind in was that Tord couldn't precisely verbalize. It was heavy and sat uncomfortably on his chest, restricting his throat and coiling around his stomach in an anxious tick. But, at this moment, it was oddly fitting. Like there was nothing else that could have fit that portion of time better.

However, Tord still felt that he undeniably could not leave Tom how he was. Not when someone like him says something like that to someone like Tord.

So he mentally wipes his sweat and pries the imaginary restrictions off of his vital organs and takes a long, unsteady breath before speaking again.

"How- why do... you really think so?"

Wow.

How fucking eloquent.

Tom snorts as he squeezes his eyes shut, but quickly opening them to watch Tord. "As if anybody could ever think otherwise."

Tord felt himself give a lopsided grin before he all but hiccuped. His diaphragm was obviously not happy about his lack of proper (truthfully improper but still routine) breathing. His heart continued thumping noisily in his chest, but Tord began to think it was for other reasons. Although, he couldn't quite place what the new reason happened to be it definitely had something to do with how Tom was looking at him with that dumb as suave smile on his face and eyes that look like a cloudy night sky and his scattered cat scratch like scars-

Tord needed to take his Ritalin.

{-}

"I didn't go to prom."

"WHAT?" Tom all but screamed as his mouth full of ice cream was on full display. Ew.

Tord shrugged as he rolled another scoop out of his pint of Rocky Road onto his spoon. Tom apparently always had multiple pints of ice cream in the refrigerator and Tord couldn't help to compare it to the barren freezer he possessed back at his apartment. They were now watching the end of Back To The Future Two, which was just as good as the first, thank you very much.

Tom's eyes were especially striking in the moonlight that filtered in through his windows. Trees were just outside and they cast a beautiful, leafy pattern to speckle across the expanse of tan skin that made up Tom. The alternating colors that flashed across the tv projected onto the side of Tom's face, only proving Tord's theory that Tom looked good in any color.

"You're joking, right? You got to be! There's no way that you, you, didn't go to prom!" Tom threw his arm around, pointing aimlessly with his spoon around the room, still chomping disgustingly on his ice cream with his mouth open as he spoke.

"Ew! Shut your mouth, you nasty! Besides, what's- why's that so hard to believe?"

Tom rolled his eyes as he kept on talking with his mouth full, "Come on, Mister Ego-centric! There's no way you could resist!"

Tord huffed as he shuffled further into the couch, head by the armrest, mirroring Tom.

"Well. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I didn't go." Tord grumbles, kicking Tom leg that was propped up against his bend one with his own. Tom shoved another full spoon of coffee ice cream into his mouth and threw his head back.

"Hah! You're serious? Man, I would have thought you'd be all over that... like those people who relive high school because it was their 'glory days' or some shit." Tom bounced his fingers up and down in air quotes, mouth still full of melting ice cream.

"Ew! Close your fucking mouth!" Tord gently tapped Tom's chin his socked toe, encouraging him to partake in basic fucking manners. Tom grinned as he audibly snapped his jaw shut, blowing hot air through his nose to tickle Tord's toes.

"And, rude!" Tord slammed his spoon and pint on the coffee table before standing on top of the couch with a pillow in hand, playfulness dancing through his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Tord friskily swung the cushion, hitting Tom's side as he finched and curled in on himself in an attempt to protect his ice cream. Tom quickly set his own pint and spoon down before standing up himself, a pillow of his own gripped tightly with his two hands.

"You just hit me?"

"Oh, shit."

"'Oh, shit' is right!" Tom lunged at Tord who shrieked and jumped off the couch, running to the other side of the room. "Come here!"

"Ah!" Tord chucked his pillow at Tom and immediately regretted his decision as Tom picked up his thrown cushion from the floor. Tom looked at Tord, a pillow in each hand before yelling as he charged. Tord's squeal was cut short as he was tackled to the ground, limbs getting tangled as the two men crashed to the floor with a loud thump!

Tord broke out into a train of giggles as he looked up at Tom who was laid on top of him. Tom soon joined in, making a melody of joy with their mixed laughter. However, the giggles quickly died down and the two were met with the realness of their proximity. Noses barely an inch away, Tord could feel Tom's ice cream coffee-flavored breath hit him in waves, surprisingly sweet despite it being coffee.

Dark, starless eyes gazed in dull, gray, and amber-infused ones with childlike innocence. Tom's heavy gaze doesn't go noticed by Tord. Absentmindedly, he wanders what Tom was staring at. Was it the freckles that dotted his tan skin? Or the dimples he felt on his cheeks? Or was it the ugly myriad of scars that littered the right side of his face?

Scrapping stripes of paled, abused skin down the side of his body, rendering him an ugly, broken creature. He felt his skin heat up and get itchy. Tord tried to suppress his urges, but the temptation grew more and more. His scared tissue becoming itchier and itchier.

His skin itched. He doesn't scratch it.

Tord felt a singular tear form at the edge of his eye, threatening to slide down the side of his face all the way to the carpeted floor beneath him. He really didn't want to cry, especially in front of Tom despite knowing that Tom had definitely seen him cry a multitude of times before including not too long ago. Regardless of Tord's efforts, he felt a single tear leave his shaky eyes, his gaze ever persistent to not look at Tom.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tom asked, concerned. Tord saw Tom's face out of the corner of his eyes but couldn't stand to look at him, instead he opted to close his eyes. Eliminating any possibilities altogether. However, it encouraged another tear to slip from his thick lashes.

"What did I... what's wrong?" Tord felt Tom's thumb swipe on his right cheek, resting on one of his scars after he successfully wiped away the small stream of tears. Tord felt his breath hitch and his lungs shudder as Tom's thumb felt like a pound of marbles on his face. Heavy, heavy, heavy. The thought of someone, anyone, touching his scars was enough to make him dizzy, but having it actually happen made his head spin and his heartbeat and his lungs flutter.

Tord's eyes crinkled as they shut and he pressed his lips to a thin line, physically trying to contain whatever was happening inside him. A gust of air burst from his lungs and rammed through his lips, coming out in a chuckle before a flood of giggles turned laughs pasted by his lips, almost matching the intensity and amount of tears the freely fell.

His dull eyes looked up at Tom's face, trying desperately to convey his emotions. Rapidly shaking his head while trying to close his mouth again.

"No! No, no no no no no- you could never- I- we! No!" Tord's head frantically shook, seemingly on its own agenda, only to be manually stopped by Tom's hand on his jaw. A cool ring pressed on the underside of his chin, making him shudder and forget what was even so funny.

And suddenly everything was hot. Hot hot hot. Way too hot. It was like a fire ignited around them, dancing about and blowing heated air on their faces but Tom didn't seem to feel this heat. In fact, Tom looked quite cool and Tord couldn't help but yearn for the colder temperature. His eyelids grew heavy as he lidded them, jerking Tom closer to himself in an attempt to bring his ice pack closer, hoping for some of its cooling relief.

Tord pulled Tom flush against himself and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He squeezed his eyes shut once. Twice. Three times before knocking his head against the other's, hoping his body language could convey what his inability to speak couldn't.

"Tord?"

"Shh, just- hold me...please..."

Tord fluttered his eyelashes against the sharp cheekbone of Tom's face in an attempt to convince him to oblige, but there seemed to be no need as he already felt cool hands snake behind his back and hold him close.

"You're not drunk are you?" Tom questioned, his voice louder from the proximity to Tord's ear.

Tord only hummed in response, tone indifferent, as he rolled his shoulders back. Tom's steady breaths hit Tord's neck rhythmically and Tord couldn't help but think this is how an afterglow should be. Regaining your body temperature while holding your lover close, listening to them breathe on your neck as your eyes grew heavy.

What a thought. Tom, his lover? Yeah right. Like that would ever happen.

"You tired?" Tom asked as he turned to speak against Tord's skin, tickling him with his soft breaths. Tord was. He really was tired, but he didn't want this night to end. It had been a rollercoaster of adventures, all so different from the other but each felt so right.

"Nuh-uh," Tord mumbled back, his sleepy words giving away his true feelings. Nonetheless, Tom picked Tord up, as if he weighed nothing, and brought him over to the couch. It was a weird experience being attached to Tom as he laid down on his back again, head resting on the only pillow left on the couch.

He had shifted down so his head laid across the top of Tom's chest, but his socked feet only reached the top of Tom's ankles. He snuggled closer to his cooling pack as he mindlessly swiped his foot along the valley of Tom's ankle.

Every so often, Tord let out a sigh of contentment as he watched the tv flicker in front of him. After a few minutes, he felt Tom's arm lay lazily on his upper back, occasionally coming up to brush back a few strands of his hair, which was undoubtedly less than perfect but Tord couldn't bring himself to care more than a passing thought.

Back To The Future Two's credits rolled on one side of the screen as the other played a car insurance commercial, but the marathon quickly continued as the thread of commercials ended.

Tom's hands were as cold as ice as they pressed on the back of his neck, but all he could manage was a shiver as his eyelids pulled down like magnets pulling to their opposite end.

{-}

Normally when one wakes up in an unfamiliar place, they freak out and boy did Tord ever. His eyes flicked open to immediately be blinded by a very inconsiderate beam of sunlight. His senses were flooded by the sound of light snoring and morning tv channels and the feel of another human being. Tord pushed away from the other body by slamming his hands on the person's chest and making a lousy recreation of Ariel's epic rock scene. His hazy gaze floated around the room in an alarming panic as he attempted to climb off of this couch(?) and find his proper state of mind.

In the process of climbing off somehow, Tord managed to mess up the one this any person should get right. Finding their footing. As soon as Tord felt the carpet beneath his toes he jerked forward and unbalanced himself, causing his own body to topple over and consequently band the side of his head on a conveniently placed coffee table.

"Shit! Ow, fucking shit!"

The smooth, breathy chuckle sounded like honey despite its obvious intent to tease. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Tom.

Wait...

"What time is it?" Tord asked reluctantly, scared of the answer. It was the weekend so he wasn't late for work, but it was Tord so he was late for something.

"I see you aren't the type to stretch before you run," The joke blew over Tord's head as he fixed a soft glare at the man above him.

"Okay okay, let's see it's... 11:38. Happy?" Tom asked as he rubbed his eyes and pulled his arms above his head, stretching his long limbs.

Tord's brain wracked for what he would be forgetting. He didn't have work today (thank god) and his one decent neighbor (godsend really) normally checked on Taco if they didn't see Tord's car in the parking lot. So what? What? Weekends...

Week...ends...

Weekends- shit. Shit! Weekends, fuck! He had a list of interviews he was supposed to come in for today.

"Shit... shit! Fucking hell, I need to- I need to go. Right now!" Tord scrambled to his feet, arms out on either side to steady himself, accidentally waking Tom in the process.

"Woah, Woah, Woah. Cool down, hot-head. What's the rush? Let's just sleep in, it's the weekend." Tom groggily protested, pulling on Tords shirt to coax him back to the couch.

"No, you don't- I have to. I need to go, like, now. I gotta- I have job interviews and I need to shower and put on nice clothes and- I need to go." Tord harshly tugged his arm back as his head wildly flipped from one end of the room to the other.

"Fine, fine! Calm down, just take a shower here and I'll drive you to your interviews."

"But, but. Clothes-"

Tom groaned, "Just borrow some of mine. It might be a little big on you, but I think might have something that'll fit."

{-}

Tom's clothes were itchy against Tord's skin. Perhaps it was because he was a few sizes smaller than Tom and the fabric only touched his skin when he turned and in awkward places, making the fabric of his dress shirt scuff against his sensitive skin uncomfortably.

The smell of Tom's soap bar was intoxicating, coaxing Tord into a dizzying state. The scent of a burning fire mixed deliciously with the faint smell of whisky. It was an inebriating thought, smelling like Tom. That's not something friends did, right? Over the countless years, Tord spent being friends with Edd, Matt, and Tom he'd never experienced this. In fact, Tord had only ever heard of this kind of thing happening between lovers.

...

There it was again.

That strange, absurd idea of Tom and Tord being lovers. How peculiar.

What would that even be like? Would Tom treat him any differently? Would they act differently? Well, not that I mattered.

It doesn't matter, cause it would never happen. Not in a million years.

The chilling air whipped past Tord as he hugged close to Tom, the large shirt slightly billowing in the wind. The sleek, black matte helmet cradled Tord's head but still allowed for the slightest airflow to avoid overheating him. The road pills flew past them as they speed to the next job interview, seeing as Tord missed his first once which required him to contact the employer.

Just thinking ahead about all the interviews he set up that he really didn't feel like going to give him a tired headache, and having a headache while on a motorcycle isn't that fun.

It was going to be a long day...

{-}

Tord trudged back to Tom's motorcycle with a piece of paper in his hand that had been crinkling. The gravel and mud moved with each set of his shoe, luckily not sticking.

He was right it had been a long day. A long day filled with disappointment after disappointment. It was like National Fuck Tord Day but instead of just one day, it was every. Fucking. Day.

It wasn't the first time Tord had the passing thought of just giving up. It was so easy.

"How'd it go?" Tom questioned as he threw Tord his helmet. Tord just barely caught it as he grit his teeth.

"Like all the rest."

Tom frowned as he turned on the bike, "No?"

"Nope," Tord popped the 'p' feigning happiness. Feigning fucking everything because nothing in his fucking life was ever anything BUT disappointment. He hiked his leg over Tom's back and wrapped his hands around the driver's waist, bumping the top of his head on Tom's back.

"Let's just go. I don't think I can mentally take any more..."

Tom nodded as he kicked off of the parking lot and headed out. It wasn't until Tord looked up that he realized they weren't going in the direction for Tord or Tom's apartment. He felt a brow rise but quickly spoke up realizing that he had a helmet on and Tom wasn't even facing his direction.

"Where are you going!" Tord yelled, hoping he'd be heard over the engines all around them and the roaring of the motorcycle below them.

"You'll see!" Tom sped up slightly causing Tord to hug tighter in distress.

The ride to their supposed destination wasn't long, but it was certainly longer than Tord anticipated. The building was much more nice-looking than all the other institutions they visited that day. The large windows were tinted and were placed all the way up the building. If Tord had to guess he'd say the building was about 10 stories tall. The sleek structure looked much more pristine than Tord, which couldn't have been a lot based on how Tord looked.

Tom grabbed Tord's helmet and walked him in. The inside was a lot nicer than the outside. By far.

The floor was a sleek, gray granite that occasionally had an organized design, but overall kept to the same pattern. The elevator was spacious and had a cushioned bench that wrapped around the corner, a mirror took up the top half of the back panel.

Tord nervously stared at himself in the mirror as they ascended the eighth floor. He swiped at the scars that freckled the right side of his body, hoping he could just... swat them off or something. He felt a cool hand grabbed his wrist and followed the arm all the way to Tom.

"Stop that. You look fine."

"What are we doing here, this building is way to fancy for me to even be here," Tord whined.

Tom chuckled, "No, it really isn't." He shifted to gaze into the mirror next to Tord. He reached over and fixed Tord's distressed hair. "We're here because you're looking for a new job, and my work needs a new receptionist-"

"What! No, no-no-no! I can't, this- you! Arg, Tom!" Tord slapped Tom's hand away and wrapped his arms around his midsection. This is the one thing that Tord never applied for because, as he's been told, he's too ugly to be presentable for a workplace. They don't want him to be the first face you seen at a company.

"Woah, Woah. What's wrong? I thought I was helping."

"Why didn't you just ask!"

"I'm sorry for doing something nice, won't happen again!"

"No, that's not-"

The elevator halted and dinged, opening up to reveal a similar-looking floor. Granite was clean and the office looked well-kept. The only off thing was the absence of the receptionist's desk.

Every time the phone rang, a random employee would jump up and speed walk their way to the phone putting on the fakest welcoming voice Tord ever heard and proceeded, "Johnson and Son's Marketing, this is Jake." "Hello, Johnson and Son's Marketing. You're talking to Janet." "You've reach Johnson and Son's Marketing, Dawn speaking."

Tord bit his lip with anxiety as he subconsciously noted Tom's hand pushing on his back, making them walk through the office. Tord snapped the hairband around his wrist every time someone glanced their way. Although almost everyone looked up, very few gazes lingered.

"Tom, what are you doing here? Don't you have the weekends off?" Tord looked over the sea of employees trying to locate the voice that just spoke up but failed.

"Yes, I do." Tom never faltered in his stride as he led Tord to a set of closed doors at the other end of the room.

Once in front of the ebony planks, Tord felt his fears settle in. Tom grabbed both his arms and pulled Tord to him. "Alright, you're gonna go in there and look her straight in the eyes and tell her why she should hire you. Got it?"

Tom's grip was light but felt clammy and soothing all at once, the touch was making Tord feel dizzy. "Yeah, but-"

"No but's. Go get 'em." Tom hastily brushed the creases out from the front of Tord's shirt and ushered him to the door. Knocking half-heartedly before shoving Tord in and closing the door behind him.

"I don't recall having a meeting today. What's this about?" A crisp voice broke from behind a large, steel desk. The work surface had a few wooden accents but was mostly comprised of steel. The large, black cushioned rolly chair was tall behind her thin frame and it oddly reminded Tord of a classic villain.

"I was... my friend told me about how you were lacking a receptionist and said I should come in. I apologize for not calling ahead, I wasn't aware." Tord's voice definitely wavered at the start, but he was surprisingly collected for how nervous he was.

"Hm, alright. Sit down and let's get started." Her Jet black bob bounded as her sleek glasses reflected a ray of light into Tord's eyes. He squinted as he sat, hoping to every god in existence that he didn't look like a total buffoon.

He gingerly slid a fresh, not crinkled, sheet of paper over to her. Her long, painted nails picked up his resume as he straightened his back more.

As she read in silence, Tord glanced around the room. It looked tidy and on the verge of personalized. Despite her radiating darkness, she appeared to be a fan of light, bubbly colors. The steel plate on the edge of the desk read 'Ms. Carder' in big, black letters.

Ms. Carder's talons clicked rhythmically on her steel desk causing it to reverberate through the matte metal. It was really hot in her room, like too hot. He was almost sure there was a bead of sweat forming on his forehead, but he couldn't move his hands. They sat in his lap, motionless, out-of-commission.

It was really hot, he wished Tom was here. Not only for support but to cool him down, because it was really fucking hot.

"What is this college situation?"

Tord's ringing ears cleared at the sound of a sharp voice, he looked up trying his best to be professional.

"Oh. Um, I was in college for a couple of months before I was drafted in the army. I didn't go back to college."

Tord tugged on his thumb as he curled his toes. Another beat of silence washed over them as she continued to read, nodding quietly to herself as she went.

Tord really wished Tom was here.

{-}

Tord tried to hide his smile as he closed the ebony doors behind him, papers in hand. As soon as Tom saw Tord, he stood up and rushed over leaving the two helmets abandoned on a desk. He's long legs allowed for quick strides having Tord only make a couple of his own to meet Tom. Once by each other, Tom's hands were on both of Tord's shoulders.

Tom raised his eyebrows in anticipation, "So... how'd it go?"

Tord pulled a fake frown and adverted his eyes. What's life without having a little fun? "Oh, Tord. I'm so sorry, I-"

"I got it!" Tord's blinding smile flashed on his face as his dimples pronounced themselves.

"Wait, really? You got it!" Tom rubbed his hands up and down Tord's arms, shaking the younger with his excitement.

"I got it!"

"You got it!"

Tord suddenly became aware of how noisy they were being and tried his best to silence Tom. Once Tom saw all the eyes of the office on them, he closed his mouth. A guilty smile slipped on his lips as he retracted his hands, grabbing the helmets before motioning for Tord to follow him as he scuttled to the elevator.

It dinged and closed the doors, and soon both men were shouting in joy again.

"Wait do does this mean we work together?"

"I guess so."

Tord tried to think of any other reality which this would ever happen and shook his head as he came up dry. What a weird thought; working next to Tom.

I weirdly reminded Tord of some tv show, but he couldn't place it. He only had cable after all, not Netflix. He wasn't rich...

But he did just get a new job.

...

Goodbye, shitty-ass Sheetz!

{-}

"I never thought shitty Italian food could taste so good?" Tord all but moaned as he took a bite of the breadstick he'd been munching on.

Tom's face screwed up, "Shitty? Don't disrespect Olive Garden like that again. I don't have to pay for you."

Tord rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his celebratory Strawberry Fresco. "I see you feel strongly about this."

Tom nodded as he picked up a green cubanelle pepper. He swiftly bit the tip of the pepper off before tipping it into his mouth to drink the juice.

"Ew, is that how you eat peppers?" Tord questioned as he swallowed another spoon of soup, trying his best to remember the etiquette class his family took when he was younger.

"Yup," Tom shoved the rest in his mouth before flinging the other onto Tord's plate. "Try it."

Tord's nose scrunched up in disgust. "No, I don't handle spices that well."

"Lo-ser," Tom joked, pushing the plate closer to Tord. "Come on, for me?"

Tord begrudgingly picked up the offending pepper and glanced at Tom who was nodding his head in encouragement. Tord bit the tip before drinking the juice. As soon as the acid hit his throat he felt a shaky tear pinch at his eyes, his tongue popped out of his mouth in search of something, anything to cool itself down. He blinked rapidly as the telltale sound of Tom's laughter erupted from the man across him. Tord fanned his face before taking a quick gulp of his drink. After cooling off, Tord took his napkin and whipped Tom.

"Haha, ow! Hey, it's not my fault you're weak." Tom chuckled as he plucked the pepper that Tord has just bitten and brought it up to his mouth.

Tom wiggled his eyebrows as he licked up the side of the pepper. He playfully bit a bigger hole into the bottom before shoving the tip of his tongue in the cavity, calculatingly watching as a brush spread across Tord's cheeks. Tom only chuckled when he was smacked with he napkin again.

"How do you feel, Mister new-job?" Tom held up his balled-up fist to Tord's mouth.

Tord swallowed his mouthful before rolling his eyes and pushing the hand away, "Is that the best name you could come up with?"

Tom shrugged before shoving his hand back into Tord's space. With another roll of his eyes, Tord leaned in. "Pretty damn good."

"Attaboy! Knew you'd get it."

Tord tilted his head down but kept his eyes on Tom's. A devious smile played at his lips as he brushed his socked foot up and down the side of Tom's leg underneath the table. He had taken off his shoes once they were seated. "Did you now?"

Tom straightened in his chair, a delicate flush dashed across his cheeks in an instant. "Are you drunk?"

Tord pretended to be shocked, mouth opening wide with a gasp as he brought his hands up. "Never!"

"You didn't even finish your drink all the way."

"You're crazy!"

"Tord the lightweight. Somehow that makes so much sense."

{-}

Tord parked in the parking lot of the new building complex before jogging up to Tom. His hands were full of some desk supplies he bought over the weekend.

"Ready for your first day?" Tom asked. He was wearing a decent looking suit, a dark blue tie hung from his collar like a necklace. His facial piercings were removed and he looked strangely official. Maybe Tord was so used to the ugly, offending uniform he was required to wear at Sheetz that anything slightly better looked fancy to him. It wasn't to far-fetched.

"Yup! I got all the supplies she asked me to bring. Do you think I look ok? I was digging through my closet because I haven't really wore anything dressy in a while and didn't know what would look good so I just threw this on. Do you think I should change or-"

A finger flew up to Tord's lips to silence him, "You look good. It's very cute, you look very welcoming."

"Oh, okay. That's good." Tord really didn't know if his dress shirt and tie were nice enough so he threw a sweater over it, then worrying that the sweater made him look less official than he should be. His dark jeans were held up with a belt even though he didn't necessarily need it. He had to go out and buy dress shoes on his errand run, knowing full well he had none back at his apartment.

Tom ruffed Tord's hair before having his hand swatted away. "Don't mess it up, I want to look nice."

"You look fine. Besides, today will be a breeze. It's your first day."

Tord sure hoped so.

{-}

Amanda was a bitch. And sure, maybe labeling someone you just met a bitch the very first day you work with them isn't fair, but neither was asking Tord to make twenty packets of copies on a printer he didn't know how to work, and then telling him he printed it in the wrong front.

So...

And don't get him started on Jake. He's a douche! First he had to give Tord a complex ass coffee order (which Tord was pretty sure was an interns job, not his. However, he didn't want to do anything wrong on his first day) and then had the never to tell him to go back to the coffee shop and get him a scone too. It was almost like he knew the wait line was super long, and that Tord was busy scheduling and answering calls and emails. He fucking knew.

But what is Yin without Yang? Dorothy was probably one of the nicest people Tord had ever met and while Jasmine was talkative, she meant well.

The only curious part of the day was how often Tom visited his desk. For no reason other than to chat, or pretend he needed something. Tord had been updating Tom about his day on the eleventh time he came over when the phone interrupted him.

"See, I personally wouldn't have- ops. Sorry, I have to get this." Tord turned slightly and reached the phone, he pressed down a button as he brought the plastic device to his ear.

"Johnson and Son’s Marketing, this is Tord."

Tom flapped his hand around as he leaned over the elevated portion of the desk, mocking a person talking as he rolled his eyes. Tord grinned as he watched, trying his best not to giggle as he listened.

"Mhmm, let me check if we're open." He clicked his mouse a couple times before gazing into the computer to check their calendar.

"Looks like we're free at two. No, Wednesday is open. Sure thing, have a nice day." He hung up and sighed before entering in the new appointment. He stood up and grabbed a folio of papers.

"Need to run these to Carder,"

"You'll be right back, right?"

Tord rolled his eyes, already walking away. The ebony door opened softly and he stepped inside. Ms. Carder appeared to be scribbling down... something on a sheet of paper before halting and glancing up at Tord.

"Oh, good. It's you."

Tord nodded, setting the folio on the edge of her desk. "A new developed company called and I set a walk-in meeting with them on Wednesday at two."

Her black eyebrow twitched upward, "A.M.?"

Tord tried to hide his confused grin, "No... P.M. Is that alright?"

Ms. Carder let out a steady breath before nodding, "Yes, thank you. Could you also call down to the I.T. floor and ask how the 'Networking Computer' is coming along?"

"Sure thing!"

After Tord was situated back at his desk and finished his call with the I.T. crew, he notice Tom strolling up to his desk. Once in front of Tord, he took a slip of tape before glancing at Tord.

"Tape," Tom stated.

"Tape." Tord reaffirmed, nodding his head as he tried not to smirk.

"Do you ever wonder how tape is sticky. Like what do they even do to it?" Tom asked, ripping multiple pieces of tape and pushing them on the edge of Tord's desk. Tord gave a confused grin as he took the dispenser away from Tom.

"Not really. I do wonder how you can avoid working so much in one day." Tord quipped.

"It is quite the mystery. Even I don't know." Tom drilled his fingers rythmically on the countertop.

"It's gonna be all over the tv, if you're not careful."

Tom gaped, feigning shock. "Me? Not careful? Pff- you're crazy!"

"Mhmm,"

{-}

Driving back from work wasn't fun but it certainly didn't bother Tord. In fact, he didn't mind the twenty minute commute at all, but he couldn't help to compair it to Tom's commute. He was pretty sure it was ten minutes or less.

Tord prided himself on being a safe driver, but Tom texting him the whole way home didn't exactly make it easy. The soft ping emitted from the phone in the cup holder, one after the other.

'hey loser

'how was your first week?

'personally I think Richard is the biggest dick

'like

'can he just leave me the FUCK alone

'FUCK rICHARD!

'I already know you like h8 Amanda and Jake

'anyone else

'hello?

'are you still driving?

'damn

'ive been home for like 15 minutes

'sLOW ASs

'im just kidding

'...

'please text me back

'im sorry

'😥

'i sent an emoji are you seriously still mad at me?

Tord bit his lip, the color from the red light glistened his features.

'nope

'im at a red light

'i was driving nerd

'cant go a minute without me i see'

Tord took a blurry photo of the road to send to Tom, and tried to click on it as the cars ahead started moving, and as he stepped the gas his finger slipped. Tord all but shrugged as he saw the image go through. He didn't really have anything to hide on his phone so he wasn't too worried.

Tord sent an image

Image received

'um

'did you mean to send that to me?

'i mean

'i

'its not

'im not

'okay ill shut up now'

Tord quirked an eyebrow at the texts. What did he send? Curiosity taking of him, Tord did what he never had before and decided to use his phone.

While driving.

Tord frustratedly fiddled with his lock screen, trying his best to keep both hands on the wheel. It finally unlock and he scrolled up to see-

Shit.

Of course. Of fucking course the photo he just happened to send had to be the only goddamn photo in his entire camera roll that was incriminating. Why did he even take that stupid photo? He didn't even have anyone he wanted to send it to and here it was... just hanging out in his and Tom's chat. Forever. Permanent.

Fucking perfect.

Tord glanced back at the photo. He was in a very revealing g-string with his hands tied behind his back. A thick, black choker wrapped around the expanse of his neck, accentuating his smooth skin. He was on his knees with parted thighs and naturally he was making an ahegao because why the fuck not?

A heavy blush filtered it's way on Tord cheeks as he tried his best to type a quick response and not get into a car accident.

'sHIT

'nO

'i cAN EXPLAin

'fUc'

Chapter Text

It had been approximately three days since the photo fiasco and every conversation since had been nothing less than ridiculously awkward. Tord explained how it had been an accident and that he didn't mean to send it and Tom all but shrugged and moved on saying 'It's not a big deal, Tord. I don't even care.'

However, Tom was making it a big deal. Every time they conversed, Tom would be stiff or cough uncomfortably or accidentally bring it up. It was tiring. Tord and Tom just discovered a newfound friendship(?) and it was already on thin ice, but now it was just painful.

Tord shook his head as he stepped out of the shower, droplets flying off and landing on the counter and mirror. He quickly dried his hair and tied the towel around his waist.

He's woken up late and was in a rush. It was 8:30, leaving Tord with only ten minutes to do his hair and get dressed. As he shuffled around his small apartment, Tord listened to the faint music playing from his phone. He vaguely recalled the artist but knew he had heard the song before. The chorus came back with gusto.

'I'm going back to 505

'If it's a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive

'In my imagination, you're waiting, lying on your side

'With your hands between your thighs'

Tord scurried around, going from the bathroom to his bedroom. He frantically brushed his teeth and pulled a sweater over his clothes with one hand. Quickly, Tord snatched his keys, phone, and wallet before taking one last look in the mirror. He did his best to not let his eyes gravitate towards the scars that pattered up and down his right side, but the sight was always so abrupt. So absurd and unusual that he couldn't help but look. Couldn't help but think; is that really me? Is that really what I look like?

Tord lightly tracked his nails down the hills and valleys of his scarred tissue, it was a strange sensation. He doesn't often touch that side of his body anymore, and it's not like anyone really touches him let alone his ugly scars.

Tord pried his eyes away from his reflection and grasped the cold doorknob before turning it and leaving, shouting a quick goodbye to Taco as he did.

His keys jingled senselessly in his pocket as he sprinted to the stairwell knowing full well the elevator would take far too long. He flipped over his phone and stole a glance at the time as he burst through the bottom door leading him to the parking lot.

8:38

Thank god.

Tord wildly pulled his keys from his pocket as he jogged to his little car, finger already hitting unlock as soon as they found the button. With a glance in the mirror and a fix of the hair, Tord buckled up and headed out, praying that he wouldn't be late.

For some magical reason, He only encountered one red light on his commute which had only lasted a minute or less. Tord tried to convince himself that he wasn't really speeding if every other car was also speeding, they were probably worried they'd be late for work as well.

He fast-walked with the energy of a-mom-on-a-jog to the elevator and slapped his floor, releasing a quiet sigh of relief when the elevator closed its doors and started ascending. The cheesy, acoustic elevator music played softly as Tord turned to take one last glance in a mirror before facing his colleagues.

His hair was only slightly not as horrendous as he previously thought it to be, but it still wasn't the best he could look. In an attempt to remedy his half-mad half-bedhead hair, Tord ran his fingers through the strands and smoothed down the unusual bumps. He then ran his hands repeatedly down his sweater in hopes of flattening any creases or bumps on the material, cursing under his breath when he realized he forgot a tie.

A (significantly louder than the music) ding interrupted Tord's grooming, announcing his arrival. He made his last-minute fixes before turning and heading to his desk when the doors opened.

As Tord plopped into his seat and booted-up his computer, he noticed the coat rack behind him had a handful of additional jackets hanging from it. It was embarrassing to know that he immediately distinguished Tom's coat from the rest, he had seen Tom wear it twice before.

Tord startled back to attention when he heard a knock on his desk. He looked up to find a pinkish Tom standing there, eyes anywhere but Tord.

"Hey," Tom muttered, his voice gravelly.

"Good morning." Tord smiled, trying his best to act like he hadn't accidentally sent this man an extremely embarrassing photo of himself just days before.

Tom brought his other hand up and slid a cup of ice coffee onto the desk, starless eyes still fixated on the picture from behind Tord. "I- uh, got this. For you. I didn't really know what you liked so I just got caramel because I remember you saying something about that so..."

Tord felt a genuine smile play with his mouth as he reached out for the drink. It was from the cafe he saw Tom at. The condensation ran over his fingers as he placed the cup on a coaster he kept by his pen holder.

"Thanks, that's really sweet of you." Tord rubbed down the side of his neck.

"I can pay you back once-"

"No," Tom interrupted a little too harshly, he cringed at his own voice after noticing the way Tord jumped in his seat slightly. "My treat. You don't need to pay me back."

Tord bit his lip and delicately reached out for the beverage. "Okay. Thank you, that was super nice." The paper straw tapped lightly against his bottom lip before he wrapped his mouth around it, sucking the drink into his mouth.

The sweet concoction was indeed caramel as he tasted a string float onto his tongue, giving the coffee a sugary flavor. He hummed contently before swallowing and setting the drink back on its coaster. He gave Tom another grin, "Thanks, it's really good!"

Tom, this time, met Tord's gaze. He smiled back at Tord as he uttered a small 'you're welcome' before drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk and leaving to his own.

{ - }

It had only been two hours into the day when Tord realized he had forgotten to take his Ritalin that morning. Richard (Tom was right, he was a huge dick) had asked him to make some copies of a certain client's legal documentation records with the company.

As Tord approached the clunky printer he racked his brain for the knowledge of how to use the said device only to come up blank. His thoughts ran dry as radio static-filled his ears. His feet mindlessly carried him to the printer and stopped when he was a foot away, the air conditioning felt incredibly stronger in this part of the office. The vague taps of fingers hitting keyboard sounded muffled to Tord as he stared down at the printer, dry eyes stinging from the crisp air.

Tord tried a second time to remember how to work the confound contraption in front of him, but once more was left clueless. His dull eyes flickered from button to button, the only sensation registering was the bright colors that dotted the machine.

Fuck...

An increasingly tumultuous matra chanted in his head like a defective vinyl; "How does it work? How does it work? How does it work? HOW DOES IT WORK?" His knuckles turned white as he stressed his fists, a ghostly energy washing over him.

Suddenly, he could no longer hear the incessant ticking of the plastic, monochrome clock that hung above the conference room. The delicate breaths of his colleagues and the repetitive clicking of console keys followed suit as Tord realized he could no longer hear any of his surroundings.

The walls of the room felt suffocatingly close despite being a meter away from him. A quick bead of sweat ran down his forehead as he stared at the printer, nothing registering.

He felt like time froze, trapping him in a desolate oasis of solitude that sat heavily in the air around him, pulling him to the ground as if he weighed nothing, attempting to have him sink straight down to earth's core and burn alive.

Tom.

Tom knew how to work the printer, right? He's worked here longer and knows how to navigate the office, right?

Tord needed to find Tom.

Tord quickly spun on his heels, the spontaneous movement nearly giving him whiplash. He briskly walked around the few desked that lead to Tom's. Once Tord saw Tom, he felt an absurdly foreign weight lift off his shoulders. He rolled his sore shoulders back as he strutted to the desk only stopping a foot away.

Tom was on the phone, his eyes were clamped shut and his index finger and thumb were pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Tord could tell from the waver in his voice that Tom was trying his best not to lash out at whoever was at the opposite end of the line.

"Sir, it states very clearly in our agreement forms that we-... Mhmm. Sure, yeah. I'll see what I can do. Have a good day." Tom slammed his phone back on to its station. He frustratingly dragged a hand down his face and grumbled under his breath. Tord bit his lip, fearing that he stumbled upon a bad time and that was probably the last thing Tom needed after an aggravating call and he didn't want to soil their already tender friendship that had just started blooming so wonderfully. Shaking his head, Tord turned to leave but was too late as Tom spotted him.

"Tord. Hi, hey- um- what's up?" Tom questioned, hands pushing the clutter of his desk to the sides in an attempt to make his space appear more presentable.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to catch you at a bad time-"

Tom shook his head as he sucked in his lips, "Nope, nope! All good, I get frustrating calls all the time." He flippantly waved a hand in the air.

Tord grabbed his wrist behind his back and rocked on his heels uncomfortably. Tom seemed genuine enough, but Tord couldn't help but think that Tom just said that to be polite. He was probably annoyed that Tord was even here and asking him his dumb question was sure to get Tom even more pissed off.

Tord squeezed his eyes, "Nothing, I forget what- just never mind. Sorry, that was rude." Tord tried to keep his words short, fearing the longer he talked the more annoyed Tom would be in him.

"It was a stupid- a stupid question so I don't even know why I was coming over to- to bug you with it. I don't want to interrupt you with my dumb question, sorry. Just forget about it." Tord found a soft heat crawl up his neck as quickly became embarrassed. He stood there with his mouth open, but no words came out. He snapped his jaw shut and his teeth clacked together audibly.

Tom quirked a brow before giving him a goofy smile that almost wiped away all his doubt. "Alright, but you really aren't bugging me. You're actually the highlight of my day, especially when I get dumb-asses on the phone."

Tord smiled, he felt his dimples form on his cheeks as he did so. "Okie pokie. Well, I'll- I need to. Printer." He flailed his thumb behind him, gesturing in the general direction of the printer. Tom smiled and gave Tord a departing waving that looked more like a small air-five.

{ - }

It was nearly his lunch break when Tom was back at Tord's desk, drumming his index fingers lightly on the ridge as he examined Tord's space.

Tord rolled his eyes after a few minutes and looked up from his computer report. "Yes?"

Tom's hands froze as he grinned nervously, "Are you- your lunch break is coming up soon, right?"

Tord glanced at the time and nodded, "Yeah."

Tom's hands then became lifeless as they instantly fell to his sides, swatting his pantlegs on the way. "Do you wanna go out for lunch? With me?"

Tord's fingers froze over the keyboard he had be diligently typing on. Out for lunch, huh? Well, Tord was rather hungry and he didn't exactly have time to grab anything this morning. Going out for lunch didn't sound so bad.

After giving it some thought, Tord decided to hell with it. "Sure, why not. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

Tom stood, grinning like an idiot while looking at Tord, seemingly oblivious to Tord's question. Tord smiled uncomfortably at his gaze, shifting in his seat slightly as he scanned the room. The air conditioning felt like it picked up and a chill ran down Tord's spin. Perhaps it was a ghost. Tord didn't really believe in those kinds of things, ghosts and all, but at that moment he couldn't deny he had felt something stirring his mind and fluttering his stomach. Or perhaps this was a normal friend thing? It had been a while since Tord had any friends and he wasn't entirely sure what was considered normal or not.

"Tom? Hello?"

Tom shook his head lightly and pinched his eyes. "Sorry, what?"

Tord blew air out of his teeth and rolled his eyes playfully, "I asked if you had somewhere in mind?"

Tom furrowed his brows before jutting his bottom lip out and shaking his head, "No, not really. Anywhere you want to go?" Tord raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times as if his vision had anything to do with his hearing. Tom was acting... strange. Well, stranger than usual. Being all nice and chivalrous.

"I don't really know the area that well, you can pick." Tord decided while continuing to type on the keyboard. The clicking sounds of the keys were fast and tight together. The air conditioning kicked on above them and filtered through the room sending a chilling gust of air to Tord causing him to shiver.

Tom cocked his head slightly as he inspected Tord. With a faint grin, he walked over to the coat rack and gingerly picked up his coat. "Tord,"

Tord turned around and glanced up at Tom who was smiling down at him. "Hmm?"

Tom gently draped the coat over Tord's shoulders before taking a step closer and ruffling Tord's hair. A few strands blew astray and laid in front of Tord's eyes, blocking his view. Tord huffed defiantly and aimlessly swatted in the direction where Tom was only to find there be nothing but air as Tom had quickly spun around and headed back to his own desk.

A cheeky smile played on the tips of Tord's lips and he continued working, subconsciously checking the time more frequently.

{ - }

The asphalt was light and cracked beneath Tord's feet as he walked to his car.

The clouds were a dreadfully dull color as they blew above, wind whipping his hair around like a cotton candy machine. The tree's rustled in the breeze as they dropped leaves, letting the droplets of color swim around in circles till they hit the ground. It was early in fall for the leaves to drop but Tord didn't complain, the view was quite beautiful.

Tord wasn't exactly a foliage type of person, but he had to admit the clothes were hella comfy and the aesthetic was amazing. Though he had to admit the pumpkin spice was excessive (but he really couldn't say anything because he was a pumpkin spice bitch as well).

Tom's jacket hung from his shoulder, obviously too big for him, as he unlocked his car. As it turns out, Tom did have a car. Although looking at it logically, Tord was still shocked.

Tord always assumed the bikers just... kept biking through rain, sleet, hail, and snow. Biked to sophisticated places on the motorcycles and when they had a group of people he thought... maybe he was stupid but Tord honestly thought they all just.. pilled on top? Like that scene in that one Wallace and Gromit short where all the sheep made a sheep-human upside-down pyramid on the motorcycle.

"Just follow me, okay? It isn't too far, but you could still get lost!" Tom half-shouted from his own car, sandy hair softly blowing with the wind.

Tord salute, "Lead the way!"

Once Tord was situated, buckled up, and mirrors checked, he started the car. It buzzed to life and the dashboard lit up with its many, many glowing badges. It reminded Tord of those girl scout sashes that had all those patches on them. While Tord was a safe driver, he wasn't too keen on getting his car checked out or taking care of it.

Look, he has to take care of his dog and himself so lay off.

The drive was, as Tom said, short and his crowning achievement was not losing Tom when he followed. That man was so used to his motorcycle, Tord swore Tom forgot he was in a car and how different those two are.

The gravel crunched noisily under Tord's feet as he followed Tom into the building. It was old and showed a different type of architecture. Vines grew up the columns that were placed in patterns around the front porch. The windows were large but tinted and hard to see through. As Tord shrugged off Tom's coat, he read the sign next to the old, oak doors.

"Norse Brewery! Tom, I can't day drink! We still have to go back to work!" Tord rushed out, exasperated.

Tom smirked, "Oh, is it perhaps because you're a huge lightweight? Can't hold your liquor? Too-"

"Alright alright!" Tord huffed, the familiar heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck. "You don't have to keep talking, I get it."

Tom smiled before pushing the doors open and allowing Tord to enter first.

Whelp, this is going to be interesting.

{ - }

"But see, that's where you're wrong-"

"What?"

"No, no. Listen-"

"Pft, okay sure..."

"Shut up and listen to me." Tord took a deep breath before continuing slowly only to speed up at the end of his rant. "Sonic would obviously beat The Flash in a race because he's small and his shoes bring less traction. Less wind resistance and less friction, boom. Easy win against The Flash- stop laugh! I'm being serious!"

Tom's laughter flowed easily through the bar, but no one paid them any mind. The dim lights were warm and welcoming above the arguing pair.

"You can't honestly say that! Sonic against The Flash? He's a hedgehog. The Flash is human, longer legs equal bigger steps equal more distance covered in a single step- BOOM! Flash wins!"

Tord opened his mouth to disagree but was cut short by their waiter returning with their food. He carefully placed the bar appetizers in front of each party before heading off to retrieve a water jug. The conversation simmered until it ended, both boys too involved in their food to actively continue the argument.

After a short while of eating in silence, Tom cleared his throat as he dabbed his mouth with the napkin. He took an incredibly large sip of water before placing the glass back on its coaster.

"So... I don't really know how to do this, but um... Shit, I really don't know how to do this. Uh- I guess, just rip it off like a bandaid? You know, get it over with?" Tom timidly asked Tord who cocked his head to the side as he felt his eyebrow rise. Tord delicately reached for his water and started drinking, waiting for Tom to continue.

"Okay, uh- I... Well, I think you should see Edd and Matt again." Tord lurched forward at that, barely stopping himself from spitting his drink out and on to the table.

Tom theatrically whipped his face from the spit and water that dotted it as a half-hearted frown made its way to his lips.

"Listen, I know-"

Tord's mind frantically spun with scenarios, "Are you crazy! They probably hate me, you can't be serious! Oh, that's it! This must be a joke or something, right? You can't honestly think-"

"Woah, Woah Woah Woah. Calm down, cowboy. Look they don't... hate you-"

Tord bit his lip as Tom continued. Why listen when it was so obvious all his words were lies? Why hesitate unless it meant that they actually do hate Tord?

Couldn't really blame them though... Tord did blow up their house, socked Matt, hurt Edd and-

Oh God... didn't he kill-

No, definitely not. He should never show his disfigured face to those two ever again. It's the last thing they need. Besides, Tord knows they're better off without him. Lord knows everyone is. He makes everyone's lives so much harder.

Case and point, exhibit A; Thomas. No matter how smoothly their friendship seems to be going, he always screws up and pushed Tom overboard. He just can't get anyone to stay with him... Maybe Tord will die alone. It's always been a drifting thought he's had. Dying alone.

After all, who would love a beast like him? Don't people want someone attractive as their partner? In that regard, Tom would make a good partner. He was handsome and kind. Too kind for his own good.

Time has served Tom well. Despite it only being two or three years, he looked far more mature than Tord remembered. His jaw and chin looked more defined, same with his cheekbones. His thick eyebrows and gorgeous eyes exaggerated his expressions tenfold.

It was mesmerizing to just look at him, simply take in each and every little marking. The little cat scratches, the mole below the point of his jaw on the left side of his neck, the slice in his brow, the small happy lines by his eyes, the way his smile was so big and welcoming and warm.

Yes, he would make a great partner. Tord hoped that Tom's future partner, whomever it may be, is at least half the person Tom is.

"-worry. I know that It's hard for you, but I really think that this-"

Tom really is too kind for his own good. Spending all this time on a lost cause such as Tord, it was embarrassing. Tord curled his toes in his shoes, repeatedly bouncing a leg at lightning speed. The heel of his shoe tapped against the floor distractingly, however it seemed to help Tord ground himself. He knows he shouldn't float away from this conversation despite how desperately he desires to. Being in the clouds was like having an affair. He knows he shouldn't be doing it and he knows he should be down on Earth with Tom, but he can't stop himself from letting the fog set in the forest of his mind. Blurring any signs or logic that could surface.

The multiple ceiling fans buzzed above them though they seemed to be all-for-not. Tord was breaking out in a cold sweat seemingly for no reason.

Was it getting hotter and colder at the same time?

Must be this bar food. It isn't that good, but he wouldn't tell Tom that. He has no right to. Tom brought him here, he shouldn't start complaining after he dismissed his chance to pick a place. That's rude, and he's trying to be a better person.

"-ey. Hey!" Tom's long fingers snapped in front of Tord's face a few times as he brought his gaze back.

"Have you been listening at all? God, it's like I'm talking to a wall."

Tord's eyebrows furrowed as he allowed the comment to wash over him.

Tom must have seen Tord's face because as soon as the words left his mouth he furrowed his own brows. The air hung heavily with tension as Tord felt his eyes start to water involuntarily.

"Tord I'm- I didn't." Tom took a steadying breath, "Look-"

"Fine," Tord muttered, surrendering. Something he has the least experience in, but over the past few years has grown used to.

"Wh... what?"

Tord furiously rubs the back of his hand into his eyes, hoping to smudge the tears away before they could fall.

"I said fine. I'll go see them or whatever..."

Tom nodded as he delicately deposited his fork on the edge of his plate. His slender fingers brushed against the bone of Tord's wrist, warning him. When Tord didn't reject his touch, Tom wrapped his hand around the other's wrist and slowly pulled the hand away from the eyes of the other.

Tord felt a specific spot on his cheekbone flare up with pain and he winced. Tom's ever-diligent eyes studied Tord before finding the issues.

Tord, while lost in conquest, rubbed too ferociously at one of his poorly healed scars. His skin had the smallest reopening on the cut, but it served enough to make Tom concerned.

"Do you need a bandaid? I might have some in my car-"

"It burns, like, a lot." Tord interrupted, fanning his face.

Tom's camera-like eyes calculating their surroundings, but came back empty. He huffed before standing up.

"Come one. Let's clean you up in the bathroom."

Tord's ears filled with static as he nodded, walking in tandem with Tom.

{ - }

"Ouch," Tord jerked his head back only to hit the mirror behind him. He sat on the sink counter with Tom standing between his legs. The slightly wet surface was cool under his palms which were laid flat against the counter.

Tord rubbed the back of his head with a frown. Tom huffed a laugh before pulling Tord's head back in by grabbing his chin and pulling.

"Stop jerking away. It'll only take longer if you do," Tom states as he dabbed the water-soaked, wadded paper towels onto Tord's cut.

The water was icy cold, but Tord fought the urge to resist it again. He really didn't want to drag this on for longer than he needed. His mind was already preoccupied and he tried his hardest to distract himself from the shooting pain that stabbed at him.

Tom had run out to his car to grab his small medical kit earlier. The kit was a tiny, old pencil pouch that had been repurposed to a portable emergency bag. A ton of bandaids were shoved behind a strap, all different sizes, while a tiny tube of Neosporin laid at the bottom with some cotton balls and q-tips.

Despite its small size, the kit seemed to be reliable in minor accidents such as the one they had.

"Alright, do you want the... Mickey Mouse one or the... Peppa Pig one?" Tom asked as he inspected the bandaids he had that fit the size of the cut.

Tord groaned.

Great. Not only with he be returning to work after this catastrophe, but he'll be returning to work with a fucking themed bandaid on.

Tord lightly swung his legs in consideration, lips quirking to the side as he thought. "Definitely Peppa Pig, I have at least some class."

Tom snorted, shaking his head lightly as he ripped open the bandaid. He stripped the adhesive papers off before grabbing Tord's chin in his hand again.

Tom smoothed the bandage down on Tord's cheekbone, trying his best to avoid further aggravation of his skin.

"There, that ought to do it," Tom said, backing away slightly to view the spot in its entirety.

Tord pressed his lips into a thin line before huffing out a chilled breath. "Is it... I don't know. Hot? And cold- to you?" Tord manged as he gently shoved Tom back so he could stand back on the ground.

Tom scratched the side of his nose and looked at the dim lights above them. "Nah, I'm fine. Hot you said? Just take off my jacket."

Tord's eyes glanced quickly to his shoulder where, indeed, Tom's jacket sat. It was obviously a size or two bigger than him. Tord shrugged it off and shoved it back into Tom's hands before soundlessly stomping to the door, holding it open in an attempt to keep some manners in check.

Tom screwed his brows together as he walked back to their table as if he didn't understand what Tord's frustration was about. How could he? He doesn't have to this with this disgustingly fragile and delicate skin. Doesn't have to live with twenty things going on in his mind. Doesn't have to live with taking medication just to be normal. It’s ridiculous to even think Tom could understand. Tord's was just too different, not parallel to Tom in the slightest. Tord wasn’t as tall as Tom or as strong or as nice or-

This fucking temperature, what is it? Hot? Cold? The cooling rushes that swept over his heated body made his stomach churn uncomfortably. With a tense demeanor, Tord trudged back to his seat deciding to stick to water for the rest of lunch.

{ - }

The never-ending back-flips and summersaults his stomach performed lead to Tord sitting on his couch with a barf bucket, Taco whining in concern beside him. The tacky chihuahua made worry noises from his tiny throat and snuggled closer to Tord's thigh, resting his head to look up at his owner.

Tord sympathetically scratched the top of the small dogs head before dry heaving into the bucket again. It was fruitless, he already threw-up everything in his stomach the first two times. Now, all it did was send him into a fit of shivers and coughs while his throat burned from the stomach acid he occasionally spat out.

Moana was interrupted by a commercial on the TV in front of him, it advertised some kind of plumbing service but all Tord could think about was Tom.

Before he left the office, Tom gave him the most heart-wrenching look he'd ever seen on his face. He definitely didn't like that look of pity especially when it was directed at Tord. The two had walked out to the parking lot together discussing a night that they could hang out and meet up with Edd and Matt.

It was strange to talk about them together again, as a group. Tord had spent the past couple of years constantly thinking about being one with his old friends again but had always believed it'd never happen. To entertained the idea of making amends and being amicable again was uncharted and forbidden territory in the tight confines of Tord's mind.

He often let those thoughts starve; focused on feeding only the important one such as what’s to eat for tonight? Do I have enough money to eat tonight?

Thankfully he didn't need to ponder that question much anymore, thanks to Tom no less. However, without the jarring distraction of starvation at his fingertips Tord's mind was available for much more... unwanted thoughts about his life before. What it was, what could have been.

It was futile to get enraptured in his daydreams, but nonetheless amusing. How he missed their adventures. Oh boy, how Tord was going to miss his twenties.

It was no surprise that Tord enjoyed his birthdays however the past three had been substantially different. He was lonely, broke, and unhappy. The first year around, he couldn't exactly afford anything at the time of his birthday but once he had enough cash to blow he was out.

Now, Tord has done many things to warrant embarrassment but nothing compares to shopping for your own birthday. It was almost humiliating to window shop thinking if he would like something or not only to move on after looking at the price tag. No matter how embarrassed Tord felt he wouldn't take it back for the world. While looking among all the expensive stores, Tord happened upon a pound and immediately walked inside.

Taco, the ugly, little fatty that he is, was all alone in his cell. One look at that dopey looking tongue that peeked out from the dog's lips was all it took before Tord was heading home with him.

How could he resist? The dog was just so fat and adorable and lovable and-

Okay, he might be a little obsessed but could you blame him?

Moana popped back onto the screen in a flash, diving straight into another song after a decent chunk of dialogue. Tord hummed the tune with her as he tried to soothe his ever-persistent upset stomach.

Tom would sound good singing this.

Well, Tom would sound good singing anything, he was a singer. Textbook case performer; Tom was an enigma. A holy deity unworthy of this earth. The shining moon among a sea of darkness. A mother fucking God.

And Tord was just... Tord.

Textbook case loser; Tord was a nobody. A filthy mortal on the barren plane of existence. A flickering star drowning in a sea of black. A waste of space.

Tord shook his head, trying his hardest to avert his mind from the un-welcomed thoughts.

Point still stands, Tord really wants to hear Tom sing again. Only... how, in theory, does one go about asking that? How can someone as worthless as Tord possibly ask someone as spectacular as Tom to bless him with his magnificent gift?

Another wave of nausea forced Tord to spit bubbling saliva into the bucket on his lap, Moana still fucking singing.

"God, I really wish Tom were here," Tord stressed as he pats Taco on his side, circling in on his stomach in an attempt to subdue the pain.

{ - }

The rest of the week moved slowly as Tord floated through work, nauseated and cold-hot the whole time, and all too soon it was the weekend. A painfully free, absent-of-any-events weekend except for... the dinner.

At first, Tord was kind of happy to have the week fly by until he remembered the plans to eat diner with Tom, Edd, and Matt.

So with a hot-cold body, an acrobat in his stomach, and cotton as brains, Tord stared at himself in the full-length mirror that was propped against the wall, standing parallel from him on the floor. The fan above him rustled his hair lightly as the old bulb flickered behind his head, the stray strands that flew away from his head faded into the abyss of the light behind him. The crewneck Tord wore was big and droopy, such a strong contrast to the tight jeans he had tugged on. A gray, tweed hat was tucked over his caramel locks, gently pulling on some strands that were roughly concealed in his haste. He stared at the brown and black winter expedition boots that encased his feet.

Did he look stupid? He felt stupid.

A few black and yellow dots popped into his vision as his head began thumping, a wooziness coming over him like a tidal wave. Tord cracked his knuckles before forcefully turning away and making his way to the keys that sat on the coffee table expectantly.

The drive to Tom's seemed shorter than usual. Maybe it was the world's way of saying Fuck You! But hasn't that just been the past three years of his life? Tord rolls his eyes, shaking his fist angrily at the sky after he parked. The soft patter of rain was drawing closer with each minute and Tord supposed he should head inside to avoid getting rained on completely.

By the time Tord conjured up enough courage to actually get out of his car, the rain picked up violently. It came down in sharp droplets that freckled his clothes and skin. Tord huffed in frustration as he wrapped his arms over his head in hopes of shielding himself from the brutal downpour.

However, the rain seemed to have other plans. As soon as Tord began running to the stairwell doors, the drops came furiously down, hitting his back with precision and malice, and no sooner than he arrived at the stairs was he close to completely soaked.

Tord groaned and glared up the clouds. Fucking storm...

Tord pushed open the metal doors, anger still noticeable on his features, and began climbing the stairs. His wet shoes squeaked the whole way, drilling a permanent annoyance in his ears before the night even begun.

Tord's hand froze on the handle to the second floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and carded a hand through his (now wet) hair. He took a shaky breath in before dropping his hand and exhaling.

"Oh-kay, okay okay okay okay okay. Phew, I got this. I'll be fine, it's gonna be fine. Okay." Tord reassured himself though he didn't really believe his own words.

He pushed the handlebar open and swiftly walked past the empty boxes and condom wrappers and plastic utensils to Tom's apartment. The golden letters hung on the door, even with rust on the edges they were intimidating.

"Okay, alright. I'll be fine- this is fine. It will be fine." Tord breathed once more before he rose a shaky fist and knocked once. Twice. Three times.

Tord waited a second before raising his hand again. Just before his fist made contact with the door, Tom quickly threw it open. His cheeks were pink and his breath was heavy, his brows were furrowed and he looked upset.

Tord's fist dropped and swung helplessly by his side. His throat was sweating but his mouth felt so, so dry. A moment passed and Tom seemed to look over Tord again. His brows smoothed over as best they could and an exasperated smile graced his lips.

"Hey," Tom said breathlessly. He looked like he just ran a mile.

"Um, hi. Should I- are you okay?" Tord scratched the back of his head, hair still wet and dripping. Tom, the eccedentesiast he was, put on a smile and shook his head. The psithurism of the trees could be heard from the outside as well as a rhythmic thumping from somewhere down the hall.

Tom brought his arm up to rest on the door frame, his body laid against the framework. The color was coming back to his face and he appeared to be calming down. "Huh? Oh, oh yeah. No, I'm fine. We were just-?"

"We?" Tord question, slightly alarmed. He twisted his fingers in his hand, a few drops of water fell from his fingertips. Fucking rain...

Tom opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but all he did was step to the side, non-verbally asking Tord in. Tord's shoes squeaked as he stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on a head of dark hair next to a ginger in the living room. The TV was on and a cartoon flashed on the screen. Tord tried to swallow the frog in his throat as he turned back to Tom.

"Tom," He whispered. "I don't really- maybe this was- I think I should go." Tom gingerly gripped Tord's shoulder, big hands lightly massaging the tension that was building up.

"Hey- look. It'll be okay, you're gonna be just fine. I promise." Tom tilted his head in a sad attempt to be closer to Tord's height. His wet hair, clothes, and fingers were dripping on the tilt under his feet. Tom patted him on the shoulder before turning to grab a towel.

An obnoxious commercial came on the TV and Tord jerked his head over to watch. It looked like a candy ad but he wasn't sure. The two men in the living room didn't move from where Tord saw them last.

Tord clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the water run down his fingertips and onto the tile with little splats.

The kitchens yellow light illuminated the slowly forming puddle around Tord's feet, his boots reflecting in the water. Different colors flashed from the living room on the side of Tord's face, but he didn't let his gaze gravitate over. He wasn't ready to look again, he just needs a little more time.

Tom's firm hand grabbed Tord's arm and twirled him around and as soon as he stopped spinning, he was being patted down by a towel.

"Honestly, would it kill you to bring an umbrella? Jesus, I swear sometimes you can be-" Tom's eyes flickered up to Tord's and he clamped his mouth shut. A flash of regret tinted his dark eyes before he stood up again, flopping the towel down on Tord's head after removing his hat and furiously rubbing away the water.

"Sorry, I'm just a little nervous. Right before you came in we were arguing. I didn't mean-"

Tord pinched up his nose as Tom fluffed his hair up, so much for looking presentable. Once Tom was done, he stepped back and left the towel on Tord's head. He chuckled before nudging Tord's side and walking towards the living room.

Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.

{ - }

The tension in the atmosphere was thick and heavy. It made Tord think it was foggy and humid in the apartment but upon further inspection, there were no signs of any abnormal weather activities inside the building.

The frog in his throat grew bigger and bigger throughout the night causing him to sufficiently lose his appetite. The clinking of water glasses and the scraping of forks on plates rang in his ears as he stared down at the plate in front of him.

Tom had made orange chicken with rice and green beans. It looked really fucking good and smelled even better, but somehow Tord knew if he took one bit he'd be hurling it up in seconds. His glass was filled up with sweet tea and ice cubes, though arguably more ice cubes than tea but it was neither this nor that. Tord watched the condensation roll down the side of the cup and onto the napkin-made-coaster below it. In retrospect, it was kind of useless to use a napkin in place of a coaster seeing that the water went straight through the sheet and down onto the table, but Tord wouldn't argue with Tom. Not when he gave him such a reassuring smile and passed him the flimsy paper with gentle hands.

The scraping of forks pulls Tord's eyes to Tom's hand, gravitating toward the noise. The silver fork rested in his loose grip. A thick vein traveled from Tom's forearm down to his finger. Silver rings glistened in the light and a wide, checkered bracelet wrapped around his left wrist.

Tord pinched his eyes shut and shook his head to snap himself out of his trace but immediately regretted it as the room started spinning and spinning and spinning.

Tord felt like he'd stumbled his way on to carousel and couldn't find his way off. Edd and Matt were quietly eating their food, only speaking when Tom asked a question but they spoke in curt responses and short quips. Tord's stomach flipped as he inhaled the smell of orange chicken again.

"Alright, what's wrong? Did I burn it or something?"

Tord looked up, finding Tom's eyes looking straight at him. Oh, he asked him that.

Tord's eyes glanced back down at the meal below him before he looked back up, eyelashes brushing the bone of his cheeks. "No, it's just- I'm. Sorry, I'll just..." Tord swiftly grasped his fork and stabbed a green bean and a piece of chicken with some rice. He shoved the fork into his mouth and pulled the food from the prongs.

His stomach sloshed and ached in protest but Tord just feigned a smiled and set down his fork. "Mmm, it's tastes really good. Since when did you stop burning down the kitchen when you cooked?" Tord jested, hoping to take his mind away from his stomach.

Tom's thick eyebrow rose in question, "Oh, getting ballsy, are we? Like your cooking was any better?"

Tord's nose pinched as the happy lines around his eyes creased, eyes dancing as the carousel slowed a little. "At least I could cooking something and not set it on fire."

"Oh ho-ho-ho, is that so? What's that I hear? Oh right, do fish tacos ring a bell?" Tom smirked as a hazy blush rose to Tord's cheeks.

"H-hey! That was not my fault! How was I supposed to know to take the wax paper out before putting it in the oven?"

"Uh, common senses? Wax vs. oven. Wax vs. Oven!"

"Oh, like you can talk! Mister Tinfoil-in-the-microwave."

This time it was Tom's turn to blush, the heat reached all the way to the tips of his ears and Tord felt like the anxiety of the night was washing away.

"Okay, but- uh... Matt! Matt put an entire family size bag of Doritos in the microwave!"

At the mention of his name, Matt sat up and glared playfully at Tom. "First of all, they were not family-sized. They were Matt sized. Second, don't bring me into this! Besides, Edd's the one who burned pasta."

Edd slammed his fork down and tried his best to scream over Matt's laughter. "IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE!"

Tord cautiously joined in with his own fit of giggles after he saw Tom smirk.

Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad?

{ - }

Tord was wrong... and right.

The night was filled with ups and downs. They laughed about their memories of cooking slip-ups, yelled about Tord being a shifty two-faced snake, cried about his first apology, and his second, and his third.

The dinner had ended with a dirty game of Cards Against Humanity, but Tord figured each game of Cards Against Humanity ended dirty.

Edd had left around 8:30, saying something about an early shift and checking up on Ringo. Matt had left around 9:15-ish, apparently also having an early shift. Tord discovered Matt had taken up being a part-time barista while applying for modeling agencies. It seemed to fit him well enough. Unfortunately, Tord didn't hear what job Edd had currently, but judging by his tone when discussing it he wasn't the biggest fan.

It was almost 10:30 now and Tord felt like he had sufficiently overstayed his welcome no matter how often Tom disagreed.

Tord clicked his tongue, "Alright, I think I should head out. Don't want to intrude."

"Oh, come off it. You're fine, please don't go?"

Tord stifles a smile and huffed deliberately, "Listen I should really go- Oh, Woah."

Tord stood quickly only to fall back down to the couch, head in his hands. Tom's eyebrows rose as he sat up and scooted to where Tord was seated. "Hey, what's up?"

Tord shook his head as he rubbed his palms into his eyes, swirls of color and bright stars flashed from behind his closed eyes but Tord rubbed anyhow.

"I... I don't know. I haven't been feeling great this week. My stomach feels weird and my head hurts and I feel hot and cold at the same time. Weird, huh?" Tord joked, pulling his hands away from his face to rest on his lap. He watched as his pinkie involuntarily twitched.

When he turned to look back over at Tom he was met with a concerned gaze. Tom's calculating eyes traced up and down Tord in an analytical gaze.

"Hmm, have you taken your temperature?" Tom gently placed his hand on Tord's thigh in concern. Tord's eyes followed his movement, lashes curtaining the top half of his vision. He felt the coolness from the rings even through his pants and the room suddenly became hotter, causing him to break into a cold sweat.

"Eh, no. Should I?"

Tom flicked his tongue out to wet his lips before standing and walking into his bathroom. He flipped open the tiny door on his medicine cabinet and shuffled around bottles and pills. "Probably,"

Tord screwed his lips to the side and stared at his socked feet. He had taken off his boots after he dried off the best he could, trying his best not to mess up the floor more than he already had. It reminded Tord of the night he had spent over here. At Tom's apartment.

It felt forever ago now, but in reality, it was only two or three weeks ago. It was one of the last times he and Tom had been able to spend time with each other, just them, and hang out. Work doesn't exactly count. It was really nice, even if Tord had a panic attack and cried a lot. Tom really was too nice for his own good.

Tord suddenly felt a harsh pain on his back when Tom returned, slapping Tord's shoulders roughly. "Alright, here. Let's see what's going on."

Tom sat half on the arm of the couch as he bent down to face Tord, body folding in half to do so. Tord shifted to allow Tom more room and turned to face his friend (friend?).

"M'kay, open up," Tom commanded, poking Tord's lips with the tip of the thermometer to accentuate his point. Tord arched his back, hearing a few cracks, before slouching again, complying to Tom by opening his mouth and lifting his tongue.

The thermometer felt cold in Tord's warm mouth but he tried his best not to think about that. The pair sat patiently for the results to come, only glancing at the TV when a particularly obnoxious commercial came on. Somewhere in the distance, Tord could hear the creaking of a bedframe hitting a wall but forced his mind away from Tom's rambunctious neighbors.

A soft beeping alerted the two that the thermometer was finished and Tom slowly pulled the tool out of Tord's mouth. Tord watched as Tom tilted his head down to read the numbers and saw his eyes widen.

"Dude, it says 106.5. You said all week you've been feeling like this?" Tom questioned, placing the thermometer on the coffee table before sinking down next to Tord and gingerly placing his hand on his co-worker's shoulder.

His firm grasp made a chill run down Tord's spine as he nodded.

"Yeah. I just- I guess I didn't want to miss any work..." Tord mumbled as he looked to the side.

He knew it was a lousy explanation and he knew Tom was going to be upset, but he honestly didn't have a better answer. The past week was fucking hell, hell in December. Flames everywhere but for some fucking reason, it was freezing enough to have a fucking snowstorm.

The patter of raindrops continued throughout the whole night and judging by the looks of the sky Tord was willing to bet a thunderstorm was to be expected. Well, at least it was finally the weekend.

So he had that going for him. Woohoo.

"Tord," Tom's tone was warning and Tord could already feel his concerned glare. "You can't do that. You need to rest and get some fucking medicine in you." Tom shoved Tord down to lay on the couch and stood to walk into his bathroom.

No sooner than he was in front of the medicine cabinet, Tom's phone started to ring. Tom didn't run over to pick it up so Tord let his shaky hand grasp it. He turned it over to see the name but just saw a bunch of emojis.

"Eh, Tom? Someone's-" Tord interrupted himself to cough once into his closed fist. "Someone is calling you?"

For a while, all Tord heard was the shuffling of boxes and pill filled bottles. Until-

"Who is it?"

Tord looked back at the large phone in his hand. Does he say each emoji or does he just say he doesn't know?

"Um, It's- I don't know It's just a bunch of emojis." Tord settled, delicately placing the phone back on the arm of the sofa by his head.

He heard the soft thumps of Tom's feet trailing back to him with hand open, seemingly holding some pills. "Oh, that's one of the boys. You know, from my band. Wait, did I tell you I'm in a band?" Tom asked as he carefully lifted Tord's head so he could sit down.

Tord hummed an affirmation and closed his eyes again when Tom laid his head onto his laps. Long fingers playing with the caramel strands of Tord's (now dry, thankfully) hair.

"Oh... well take these." Tom dropped three pills onto Tord's stomach before grabbing his phone and furiously typing on it after declining the call.

Tord picked up one of the pills with his thumb and index to inspect the medication Tom just threw at him. There were two Tylenol pills and an Advil gell.

"Can I take all of these?"

Tom's fingers hesitated as he looked down at the man below him. "What do you mean? I gave them to you, didn't I?"

Tord shook his head, "No, I mean. Can I take all of these, like, together? Like they won't mix bad or whatever?"

Tom yanked on Tord's hair a little too hard, "Nah, I think you're thinking of drinking and pills... Speaking of-" Tom released Tord's caramel strands and reached to the end of the coffee table where an unopened bottle of Smirnoff sat. How did Tord not see that?

"I thought you- stopped... drinking?" Tord asked cautiously. Tom snorted as he popped open the bottle using the attachment on the back of his phone case. He threw his head back before drinking at least a fourth of the thing. Tord watched Tom's adam's apple bob as he swallowed mouth-full after mouth-full. Tord pulled his gaze away and swallowed the pills in his hand.

"What made you think that? If anything, I started drinking more after you disappeared." Tom said bitterly as he glared at the TV, grip strong and knuckles white.

Tord furrowed his brows, "And now that I'm back?"

Tom's glazed flicked down to Tord's, his dark lashed fluttering like butterfly wings. "Well, I... I'm trying?" Tom dropped his free hand and carded his fingers back through Tord's hair and Tord hummed in response, a small smile on his lips.

"What did your friend want?"

"Huh?"

Tord grinned fondly as he closed his eyes, finding it a bit harder to keep them open. "The one that just called you, duh."

Tom twirled a lock of hair around his finger, "Oh, just stuff about songs and all that."

Tord grunted softly, shifting to his side slightly. "How'd you guys meet?"

"Eh, you know. At a bar," Tord grumbled something in Tom's shirt, and although Tom couldn't exactly hear the man's words he could still see the crease on his temple.

"Not like that. I was performing and they gave me a bill or so. We started talking about music then one thing led to another and here we are."

Tord smiled and shuffled closer to Tom. "That's nice. Do you guys get along?"

Tom yanked a little too harshly and Tord whined from the back of his throat. "Oh, sorry." He sighed before gentle petting Tord's head again. "I guess. I mean we argue, like, a lot but we generally get along. Besides, we argue about stupid things?"

"Oh, like who would win in a race if it were the Flash and Sonic when the obvious answer is Sonic? Yeah, that does seem pretty dumb." Tord quipped with a smirk. He heard Tom chuckle above him, chest shaking slightly.

"Oh, you little shit. Don't get me started on that again." Tom, despite his angered words, continued to gently comb through Tord's hair. The contact was cool but welcoming and Tord found himself leaning into it.

"Enlighten me."

"Oh, I'll enlighten the fuck out of you. First of all, Sonic is such a short fucking bitch, kind of like you, and the Flash is human. Like, long legs and shit. Second of all, sonic is a cartoon character. He's not even real-"

"They both aren't real."

"Sh, sh, sh! Tord, let me explain." Tom groaned.

Tord felt the ends of his mouth curl up as he reached a shaky hand up, blindly searching to find purchase on Tom. He grasped Tom's bicep and tugged it closer to him, bringing his legs up to curl in on himself slightly.

"I'm listening," Tord goaded, eyelids drooping with the temptation of sleep.

"Fine, fine! As I was saying-"

Tord closed his eyes experimentally and felt his body loosen up a bit, tension leaving his shoulders.

And suddenly-

Tord was walking on the edge of a cliff. No, not walking. Running. Tord was running dangerously closer to the air adjacent to the drop of the cliff. His feet hit the rocks under him in harsh hits, fists swinging on either side of him. He looked at the horizon and saw a sea of Spruce trees. Norway Spruce trees.

They were monstrous, which is saying a lot for a tree that grows to be almost forty to sixty feet tall. The trunks were thick and long, towering over Tord beside him as he ran.

Patches of snow decorated the ground and branches of the trees and mountains around him.

The clouds were light grey, but few and far apart. The sun was setting, casting a charming orange over the place Tord was at. Some clouds were pink while others were purple, but the scenic landscape didn't last long as Tord suddenly jumped off the cliff. Trees and clouds and mountains passed him as he continued falling and falling and falling.

The jagged ground was approaching fast, and Tord could only stare.

The trees below were getting closer and closer until-

Tord jostled upright to immediately bonk his head on something. A sharp clack and ow emitted from somewhere above him as Tord laid back down, hand rubbing the spot at the top of his head.

"Dude! What the hell was that for?" A frustrated voice asked above him. Tord's bewildered eyes looked up to find Tom with a hand massaging his, probably aching, jaw.

"Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry. I- well I fell asleep and was having a dream and I fell and... yeah."

Tom's hard gaze didn't lessen. "So you decided to pound my jaw with your head?"

"It was an accident!"

Tom huffed, his hand slowly releasing his jaw and coming back down to Tord's hair. "Is your head okay?"

Tord pinched his eyes shut and took a calming breath. "I- yes. It's fine. How's your jaw?"

Tom shrugged and lifted the now near-empty bottle of vodka to his lips. "It's alright." Instead of tilting his head back, Tom turned the bottle nearly upside down and waited till the rest was in his mouth. He audibly swallowed the rest and placed the empty bottle on a real coaster on the coffee table.

"... Sorry. I really didn't mean to do that."

"It's fine, Tord. Do you wanna sleep in my bed? It's kind of late and I don't want you out in that storm with the cold you have."

Tord sat up and furrowed his brows in confusion. "What storm?"

Just then a sharp flash of light decorated the room in a whitewash brilliance and a deafening BOOM! of thundered followed shortly after. The TV flickered to a black screen but quickly turned back on to South Park.

"Oh... sure. If it's not too much trouble?"

Tom shook his head, standing up before offering his hand to Tord which Tord gratefully took. "Nah, the bed's kinda big. I have room for you, don't worry. I wouldn't have offered it if I don't." Tom reassured, calming Tord's mind before it even had time to roam.

Tord stumbled backward when Tom let him go and nearly fell back onto the couch. Luckily, Tom grabbed Tord by his forearm before his back hit the cushions. "Jesus. Here, climb on."

Tom turned and squatted down, arms out to his sides in preparation. It took Tord a minute before he realized Tom was offering him a piggyback-ride. Tord snorted as a smile graced his lips. "Am I not too heavy for this?"

"Nope," Tom said, popping the 'p'. "Now get on." Tord made a face even though Tom couldn't see and approached the back tentatively.

Tord shrugged, throwing caution into the wind, and jumped on Tom's back. The taller grunted upon contact, but immediately straighten up and shuffled Tord into a better position before walking as if Tord weighed nothing.

Tom padded into the bathroom and flicked the light switch on. Tord rested his head on Tom's shoulder and watched as the other picked an unopened toothbrush from his medicine cabinet, thrusting the object into one of Tord's hands.

Tord sleepily giggled and began opening the packaging while Tom grabbed his own and tried to his hardest to squeeze the toothpaste on the bristles with one hand. Once successfully, Tom shoved the toothbrush into his mouth before grabbing Tord's (now opened) toothbrush and squeezing a drop onto it after running it under the faucet.

The two of them began brushing while staring at their reflection in the mirror. When Tord looked over and saw the dead-eyed look on Tom's face he tried his best not to laugh.

Tom quirked an eyebrow and slowly took the toothbrush from his mouth. "Wha?"

Tord snorted and immediately regretted it as he swallowed some of the toothpaste. His face must've shown what happened because Tom immediately started barking with laughter.

Tord feigned a hurt facade as he pounded a non-threatening fist on Tom's back. Tom slapped a hand over his mouth before calming down and spitting in the sink, running water over the toothbrush. The blue paste ran down in a small spiral before disappearing down the drain.

Tord lazily handed Tom his pink toothbrush and Tom rolled his eyes before repeating the action.

Before long, Tom carried Tord into his room and sat the other on his bed. Tord felt small on such a large surface and couldn't help but to compare the queen mattress to the double back at his place. Tom turned and dug through his draws sloppily.

"Here," Tom haphazardly threw a big shirt and some sweatpants at Tord. "Change before you get under the covers."

"Oh, alright. Thanks,"

"No problem." Tom pulled out a second pair of sweatpants before peeling off his shirt.

Tord stared at the broad shoulders and slightly toned stomach before him. How could Tom just... strip? Just like that. No problems. Probably because he doesn't have a disgusting body.

Tord lowered his head to stared at the white shirt and black pants in his lap. The shirt had a handful of huge, colorful mushrooms on the back and some stretched-out words that Tord's brain was too mushy to read. The Adidas sweatpants shouldn't be a problem considering they had a string, but the shirt looked really big and Tord could already tell that the neckline was going to fall off his shoulders.

Tord normally doesn't wear pants to bed, but they looked comfortable and he was feeling especially cold at the moment. So with a shrug and a fuck-it-all attitude, Tord tugged off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, trying to shimmy them off without having to get off the bed.

Once his body was bare from clothes, Tord reached for the mushroom shirt that sat on the comforter where he left it. By mistake, his eyes flickered up to Tom to find the man already staring at him. Tord's hand froze where it gripped the shirt and he tilted his head up.

After a few seconds, Tord cleared his throat. "Yes?" He absolutely hated how small he sounded.

Tom blinked once. Twice. Three times before shaking his head and looking away. Tord felt the weight on his shoulders lessen. "Sorry, it's just... I did that?"

Tord felt the bed dip beside him and he figured Tom was sitting. Tord glanced down at his torso and looked at the scars that tracked up and down his right side. Tord closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to compare himself to a zebra. A fat, ugly zebra with stupid hair and a stupid voice and-

Okay, that's enough of that.

"I- yes... technically."

A cold finger on his scar jostled Tord's eyes open and snapped his head up. Tom quickly retracted his hand, "I- sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No! I'm- It's okay. You can... I don't mind."

The moonlight from the window behind Tord cast Tom's face into swatches of dramatic shadows, but his eyes seemed to glow in the nearly dark room.

"Are you sure?" Tom whispered, voice gravelly from his volume.

Tord smiled fondly at Tom's concern, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Suddenly, the cold finger was back. But not just one, this time there was five. A hand. Tom's hand was on him. Tom's hand was on his scars and he wasn't pulling away.

Tom's cold fingers traced a particularly large scar with the most tender touch Tord ever felt. Tord felt himself involuntarily shivered from Tom's touch and his breath catch in his throat as he felt Tom's hand gently traced down past his chest, past his waist, and on to his thigh.

Tord couldn't recall when but Tom had removed his rings and bracelets. All that was left was a lonely black hairband that looked used one too many times.

"I'm... Tord, I'm so sorry." Tom's voice wavered slightly as the cool hand traveled back up to wait at Tord's waist. "I'm so, so s-horry." Tom choked out and it was only then that Tord realized Tom was crying.

Huh.

Tord can't remember the last time he saw Tom cry. It was... unnerving, but comforting all the same. He seemed a little more human, a little more mortal.

It wasn't until Tom's other hand came up to swipe at Tord's cheek that he realized he was crying too and-

They were hugging. Tom was hugging Tord, who was still practically naked, with no hesitation. Tom, who was crying, was hugging Tord, who was also crying and basically naked, in a dark room with the moon being their only nightlight.

Tom's choked breaths were muffled on Tord's shoulder while Tord cried silently, wet tears clumsily dropped from his cheek and down to Tom's arms.

"It's- Tom. Please stop c-rying. It's okay. I'm better now, see? B-hetter." Tord pulled away and lightly patted his chest as if to demonstrate his 'betterness'. Tom's black eyes look like a dark sea when they're glazed from tears.

The intense patter of rain was still beating harshly against the windows and the lightning flashed a few times, but Tord couldn't hear any thunder anymore so he assumed it was far off.

As Tom pulled himself together, whipping eyes with abandon, and shuffled further away till he was off the bed and standing on the floor again. Tord carefully pully the mushroom shirt over his head and wiggled the sweatpants on. He loosely tied the string around his hips before scooting up to the top of the bed.

Tom threw back the covers and crawled into bed, head hitting the pillow as soon as he stopped shifting around. Tord's cheeks had dried trails of tears running down them, but he shook away the feeling in favor of squirming under the sheets himself.

The bedding was cool but perfect for how naturally hot he was and considering he was wearing pants in bed for the first time in forever and was almost positive he was going to overheat.

Tom shuffled slightly and a soft illumination rose from his side along with a small ding emitted from Tom's side and Tord figured the other must've plugged in his phone for the night.

"Hey, I normally play music? When I'm sleeping, are you-"

Tord interrupted quickly, "I don't mind,"

Tom hummed in approval before swiping and clicking on his phone's screen rapidly, but soon enough a quiet tune filled the room. Tom had considerably turned down the volume and Tord could hear the familiar notes of Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler begin.

The rain outside was still coming down in intense strides and he could hear the distant sound of thunderclaps if he strained his ears, but the sounds provided more white noise and atmosphere than any disturbance.

Tord felt completely content.

Trying his best not to let all the worries of his day (and week) keep him awake, Tord snuggled closer to his pillow and let the tempting lull of his eyes gently pull him into a dreary state. The dip in the bed beside him was cold and Tord could already feel himself start to overheat but all he had the capacity to do was close his lids as Bonnie Tyler sung to him.

"And I need you now tonight

"And I need you more than ever

"And if you only hold me tight

"We'll be holding on forever"