Revolution 0 initially started out as an Eddsworld roleplay that my friend (DirgaBlurg on ao3) and I did in November of 2024. The longer the roleplay went on, the more I decided that I wanted to adapt it into a fanfic. I initially posted the first chapter in February of 2025, and Iâve slowly worked my way up to 9 chapters (counting the prologue) and I of course have more in the works.
This is a TomTord AU, and it is extremely self-indulgent. I am very aware that nobody acts how they do in canon, and many little things arenât canon at allâsuch as Tom being hispanic and trans. Bullying me about it and complaining about racewashing or making cis characters trans because theyâre âreal peopleâ wonât change this. Tomâs transness and him being a person of color are meant to be commentaries on my own life to an extent and I find comfort in making his character the way it is. If you donât like it, just leave. Thereâs no use in fighting about it
DNI: Basic DNI (Bigots, zionists, misogynists, ETC), proshippers/darkshippers/ANY KIND OF PROBLEMATIC SHIPPER, if I have you blocked on any other platform for any reason, if you sexualize my versions of the characters, if you believe in âblackwashingâ, if you think the characters are the same as the real Eddsworld crew
This AU includes a lot of dark topics, such as (but not limited to):
Child abuse, both physical and emotional. This includes unhealthy parent-child dynamics such as emotional incest
Multiple near-death experiences involving young teenagers
Animal/monster violence (including death)
Gun violence
Gore. It can sometimes be extremely detailed and gross
Alcoholism, self-harm and smoking (Including underage usage of alcohol/cigarettes)
Bullying and bigotry (such as racism and homophobia/transphobia)
At the beginning of the story, Tom, Edd, Matt and Tord are all 14-15 year olds. Sexualization, proshipping and so on will result in an immediate block. In adulthood, Edd is aroace. Tord and Tom are both asexual as adults. I would appreciate not sexualizing them even then!!! Thanks!!!
All of this info will be added onto, removed and edited accordingly!
Any and all art used will be credited. Chapters are slow to update, and if you want to see them as soon as possible, check ao3 BEFORE Tumblr. I no longer have a public Twitter, so Iâll perhaps post concept art here instead or on my main blog @fussyfangzz.
I hope you enjoy what I have cooking for these freaks ^w^
hi! so the title is pretty self-explanatory i think, i have a good few playlists iâve made based on the revolution 0 au and i figured i should share them here đŤĄ
i have both spotify and youtube versions for the sake of accessibility and whatnot. spotify links first!
youtube versions below. for some reason when i put the links it shows on my phone âbrowser deprecatedâ and im gonna hope it doesnt show up like that for others đ pls lmk if it does and ill use a link shortener or something.
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im gonna note two things now:
the youtube versions may slightly be out of date sometimes (different title, cover, etc), and/or missing a few songs.
the edd and bailey playlists are pretty heavily works in progress, and matt doesnât have a playlist yet. when i make a playlist for him, it will be added to this post!!!
anyways, if you want more content, things to speculate over, etc, i think these will help with that 𫡠all art is by friends or commissioned specifically for the playlists! credits given in each playlist description.
Tord hadnât really been sure what to make of anything that had happened today.
How quickly heâd trusted Tom enough to show him the car, Tom offering to smoke first, the way he chugged that Michelob Ultra like he was dying of thirst, the rant that followed about how people treated him, the tears, the hug, the way he tried to just switch it off.
But it wasnât like how Tord could just turn it off. It was different. Like Tomâs seams were falling out, like he was an overloved plush doll with its stuffing poking out the sides. He wasnât flipping a switch, he was pushing it all away with a bulldozer like a demolished house.
Tord could tell. Ohhh, he could tell.
As he paced to where he could recall the location of the cave, he grasped Tomâs hand with an intense desperation. He was concerned about the other tripping, falling behind, getting torn up about it. He hadnât been lying when he said heâd take Tom home after the fact.
He had a lot of things going on that he knew werenât correct, but lying wasnât really one of them. He was rarely dishonest. If something he said wasnât true, that wasnât necessarily his fault.
That just meant he had reason to believe it was the truth, not that he was going out of his way to be deceitful.
In any case, they needed to make this quick.
Go to the cave, check on the corpse of whatever the fuck attacked them a week ago, leave, and pray to whatever gods there were that theyâd never have to do this again. Not with this much worry, anyway.
Anything else would be wasted time unless it was something they had to do.
..If someone got hurt.
Tord let out a shudder, one that was only really audible to himself. The thudding of quick steps through grass, then dirt, then asphalt had made most other noise notably difficult to pick up on unless your hearing was sensitive, or you were the one making the noise.
Tord eventually slowed once the two boys were nearing the woods. He hadnât taken the exact route as beforeâbasically a shortcut, one that heâd discovered the evening of their previous visit here. He hadnât wanted to loop back around to Eddâs house and start a scuffle, so he found his way out some other way.
âThis doesnât look like where we went last time.â Tom pointed out. To be fair, Tord wasnât sure if Tom had been paying much attention to his surroundings the last time they were here.Â
Tord didnât look at the other, still walking. âI know. Iâm trying to avoid Eddâs house, that's all. Not that I care that much, I just donât know if we should explain anything to him right now.â
Hopefully that didnât sound too ominous. Heâd already been acting a bit shoddyânot on purpose, necessarily. He just wasnât really picking up on things that were weird until said things got a reaction.
â..I mean, Iâm drinking. I donât think I want Edd to know about that. Not now, anyway. He might snitch.â Tom replied. Though, as he said that, heâd slipped the bottle into the back pocket of his jeans. It awkwardly jutted out due to how small the pockets were, and Tom would have to be careful not to drop it.
The Norwegian gave the boy a look, raising a brow as the two approached the entrance of the forest. âDoesnât he know how your mum is?â
He didnât like Bailey very much.
She wasnât nearly as controlling as his father, and god forbid calling her neglectful like his mother Marlene, but she still wasnât someone he wanted to be around. He just got this bad feeling.
Maybe it was just because of the stories heâd been told. Her behavior in his presence didnât line up with it, and usual descriptions of her actions had slipped through the cracks here and there.
You two need to keep Tassaâs door open, as long as youâre in there together. Iâm sure that you understand why.
Tord had quickly confirmed that he understood the rule, but that was one of the few times he was dishonest. He didnât want to go back home.
But we can never be too sure, right?
Tord was pretty sure he was more trustworthy than her. There was no reason for him to be treated as anything else by her.Â
He didnât care about the rules, it was just the way they were explained to him. Did she think heâd ever do something to Tom that he shouldnât? On purpose? Did she think that Tom would just happily go along with whatever it was? That Tord wouldnât stop if the other protested?
He got up to all sorts of nonsense, and he knew he could be mean sometimes, but heâd never..
They were only in secondary school. They had better things to be doing than what was on the mind of Tomâs mother. Why would she even think of that?
Thatâs something that adults do. Something only adults should be doing, anyway.
Tord wasnât like that, and he knew damn well that Tom wasnât either. How did Tord trust Tom more than his mother trusted him?
Tord scowled without really thinking about it. He could have sworn he felt his eyelid twitch, but maybe he was doing that on command, not as an uncontrollable reaction to rage.
âWhatâs wrong?â Tom questioned, carefully pulling Tord away from his thoughts.
The teen looked back at his void-eyed friend, blinking slowly. âYour mum annoys me.â He stated, then squeezed Tomâs hand and pulled him into the woods without much more thought.
Tom either hadnât known how to respond, or he just didnât feel the need to. Tord wasnât sure, but it didnât matter much. They had more important things to focus on now.
It only took a couple of minutes to get back to the edge of the cave. Tord came to a halt and Tom stopped maybe a foot ahead of him, then turned around and looked at Tord.
Whatever his emotions were at the moment werenât easy to read, really. His lips were softly pursed, his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed. His arms dangled limply at his sides, though both hands were balled into fists.
He didnât want to do this. Tord knew he hadnât wanted to the whole time. He wasnât going to force Tom to join him, but Tom had a point. He couldnât just come here alone. The chances of survival grew with every person added to the search party.
Nonetheless, Tord couldnât help but give Tom one more warning. One more chance to back out before they were shoving their heads right in-between a rabid bearâs jaws.
â..Tom, you donât have to come in with me.â Tord mumbled, taking a step towards the boy. âIâm serious. I know you insisted and I donât want to be alone in there, but itâs obvious you donât want this to be happening in general.â
Tomâs tense shoulders fell and his head tipped down towards the ground.
Tord stared down too, his gaze fixing upon the jagged divide between the caveâs stone and the forestâs dirt and grass.
âIf you decide you canât do this, Iâll take you home. Okay?â
He heard a soft gulp, and then Tomâs reluctant reply.
âIâll go in with you.â
Was he serious?
âIs that your final choice?â Tord questioned. âI wonât stop you from running away, but itâd be better for us to stay close so we donât get lost.. or.. well, you know.â
Tom shuddered.
âYeah.â
So they were really doing this.
Heâd try to protect the other, at least. Just like before. Even if the situation was completely unbelievable by anyone other than the two of them.
âHey.â Tord said, lifting his head back up to look Tom in the face. Tom was hunched forward, obviously already afraid. âThat means I may or may not have to throw you around like a ragdoll. Not because I want toâbut so youâre not in the way of the gun.â
Tom cracked a smile for just a second, then he shook his head. âPlease donât throw me.â
âNo promises.â Tord replied, then grabbed his jacket, pulled it, and reached his free hand into his inner pocket. âIn that case, can you hold this? I need to be prepared and itâll be easier to protect us if Iâm not digging through my pockets.â
He pulled out a flashlightâone with a noticeable crack in the protective glass, and spun it around in his palm until the handle was in Tomâs reach.
Tom grabbed it carefully from the other. âSure.â
Tord knew his way around a gun more than Tom. He wasnât an expert by any means, but heâd gotten a little bit used to holding it by now, and heâd already had to actually use it for something.
âReady?â Tord questioned.
Tom frowned. âAs ready as I can be in a situation like this. Letâs get it over with.â
Tord gave a small nod, reaching for Tomâs empty hand and walking into the cave. Tom only squeezed the otherâs palm in response.Â
Tomâs hands were sweaty, or maybe those were Tordâs hands, he couldnât really tell.
âYour hands are sweaty,â Tom mumbled. âI think.â
It seemed that Tom couldnât differentiate it either.
It took less time to get to where theyâd been cornered before, compared to last time. They werenât lollygagging or tripping over themselves trying to avoid what had felt like certain death, just.. walking.
Tom was using the flashlight to brighten the way, and that made it easier. They didnât really know where they were, last time. Tord had practically just walked straight until theyâd escaped.
Things seemed calm. Too calm.
They were actually chit-chatting a bit in hushed tones, the topic simply being what they were gonna tell Edd and Matt, but..
âOh.â
The light fell upon a pool of dried, dark blood. Lots of blood. At one end there were what looked like small chunks of flesh.
Tord stared down at the dried crimson with a blank expression. Something was wrong, but he couldnât really put his finger on it, at least not immediately.
Where the fuck was the body?
Tord had been so certain he killed it. He shot it, what, four times? Five?
Regardless, he had gone out of his way to make sure it was dead.
It didnât stink of decay, there was no trail of the bodily fluids, either. It was like it had just gotten up and walked it off.
âDritt.â
Shit.
Tomâs head sharply turned to stare at Tord, and his eyes were already chalk white. He was shaking way ahead of time, too.
âLetâs get out of here right now.â Tord said, returning the stare. He reached for Tomâs free hand and whipped around, trying to lead Tom back towards the entrance of the cave as carefully as he could. That carefulness became harder to maintain when the thuds started up.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Not now.Â
Tom started to hyperventilate.
Tord looked at him for a moment, then forward, then back at Tom. âCome on. Run.â He blurted out, then tightened his grip on Tomâs hand and took off.
This time, theyâd actually managed to keep a grip on the flashlight as they ran. Tord had found it on the outskirts of the cave a few days after the initial incidentâheâd been too reluctant to venture in alone at the time, so he just took it and ran off. The torch wasnât worth losing his life in isolation over.
Itâs fine. Itâs fucking fine. If they just never came here ever again, this would be the last they heard or saw of that thing. Someone else would have to deal with it. Maybe the government would catch wind of the otherworldly fucker and start experimenting on it, Tord didnât give a shit what happened to it once this was over, they just needed to get out of there.
Tord realized theyâd gotten out of the cave once the thuds became softer. They were a few feet away from the entrance, and Tomâs hand dropped from Tordâs grasp. He wrapped his arms around himself like heâd fall apart otherwise, breathing heavily. Momentarily, his arms then fell to his knees and he leaned over like he might lose his balance if he tried to stand up straight for any longer.
Tord didnât know what to do. He took a step over to Tom and stared at him with a frown.Â
He felt bad, but he couldnât really.. express it. It felt wrong to be sad when it was kind of his fault that Tom was panicking like this, but he couldnât just not be sad.
Not be angry.
Not feel the need to go back in there and take care of that creature once and for all so this would never happen again.
Tord didnât have much time to think about that, though. In all his anger and the sound of Tomâs frightened gasps for air, he hadnât really realized that the monster he hated so much was now right behind him, fully healed gashes and wide, round scars littering itsâ face. It was like it just walked it off. The markings looked months to years old, like the incident wasnât a mere week ago.
Tom noticed first, and he screamed.
âTORD!â
That startled the Norwegian, but in Tomâs helpless panic, he grabbed Tord by the ankle and attempted to yank him out of Tordâs reach.
Tord tumbled to the ground with a groan and the gun fell from his pocket, it being a miracle that it hadnât fired when it landed in the dirt. Not like the safety was on.
âFf-fuck, SORRY!â Tom shrieked, grabbing onto a nearby tree and using it to pull himself to his feet. He promptly bent down to pull Tord back up, probably run far away after, but-
There was a scream, that shriek ringing in his ears like a fire alarm in a primary school classroom.
Despite the slow loss of smell Tord had suffered in the past couple of weeks, he already knew heâd see blood when he looked up.
And he was right.Â
When he finally lifted his head to see what had happened, Tomâs arm was tightly held between the creatureâs jaws, itsâ teeth digging deeper into his skin with every passing second. He could hear the ripping of fabric, maybe even the breakage of skin, too. It sounded almost like popping and it made Tordâs throat tense.
No. No. No.Â
FOR FUCKâS SAKE.
THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE DIDNâT WANT TO HAPPEN.Â
Tord jumped to his feet quickly enough to make him lightheaded more than he already was, promptly snatching the gun from the dirt and aiming it at the creature.
Tom was in the way of itsâ head.
Desperate, Tord aimed for one of the monstrosityâs legs, discharging the gun with little hesitation.
Whatever had attacked Tom let out a yowl, dropping Tom. Tord didnât have time to check on him right now, as much as he wanted to, as much as he needed to.
Tom rolled maybe a foot away from where heâd initially landed, and his sobs filled the air only momentarily.
Fucking. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
THIS WAS EXACTLY. WHY. HE KEPT GIVING TOM THE OPTION TO OPT OUT.
WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING CARING?
FUCKING. DUMBFUCK.
Tord aimed, and shot. He shot again and again and again until booms werenât overtaking every other noise anymore. There was just a click.
Of course Tord didnât mean that. But it felt like he did.
Tordâs thoughts didnât feel put together. They felt like a ball of yarn that was quickly being rolled down a set of stairs, softly bouncing with every landing.
Nonetheless, the creature was on the ground.Â
Tord couldnât be so sure that it was dead after what just happened.
He shoved the gun back into his jacket.
He paced over to where it dropped and lifted his leg, stomping down on the remainder of itsâ head over and over until his boot was drenched in its deep-coloured, thick blood. The squelches of wet flesh eventually came to a stop.
âForbanna DĂ!â
Fucking DIE!
He was still seething by the time he dropped his foot one more time. He clenched his jaw, heavy breaths barely passing between the gaps in his teeth.Â
He looked at Tomâs body.
The boy was sprawled out like he was just asleep, but holes littered the upper arm area of his shirt, even with his two layers. The little bit of skin Tord could see beneath Tomâs sleeve was just red. Deep, stomach-churning red.
Fucking. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
He crouched down and grabbed Tomâs left arm, pushing his sleeve up and pressing the tips of his pointer and middle fingers to his wrist.
He paused for just a few moments.
Oh my God, he had a pulse. He wasnât conscious, probably passed out from shock, but he was alive.
âIs somebody out there? What the hell was that?â
Shit.
That was Edd, and that sounded kind of close.
They had to get out of here before Edd saw them and he had to explain this or Tom didnât make it or something else happened.
Tord hooked his arms under Tomâs back and knees, groaning loudly as he lifted the other.Â
Please be okay.
Please.
He took off. He couldnât run like this, but he had to try. Every step was heavy and it was a miracle that he didnât tumble over. How he even mustered up the strength was quite the conundrum.
He was as quick as he could be without falling or dropping the other. He weaved through the trees with Tom in his arms until he found the boyâs house.
He had to now beg and pray that not a single neighbor saw this and that they would be the only ones in the house.
Had it not been someone elseâs home, he probably would have kicked the door open. Instead, he took the time to maneuver his hands until he could open the door slowly like this was any other day.
He stepped into Tomâs home and slammed his back against the door to shut it, quickly kneeling down on the floor and laying Tom down.
He didnât check on him again, as much as he wanted to. He turned around and darted for the bathroom, stomping up the stairs hard enough to shake them.
Bathroom.
He threw himself onto the floor and started to dig through each and every drawer and cabinet until he found a first aid kit. It wasnât perfect, but it had to work for now. Tom couldnât go to a doctor and every second counted.
He paced back down the stairs with the kit in hand, dropping to his knees next to Tom. He practically tore Tomâs T-shirt and jacket off of him when trying to get a better look at the bite, then removed that arm from his sleeve. He propped the empty sleeve next to Tomâs face, attempting to keep it from getting in the way. If the blood was persistent, then Tom would probably have to throw out both shirts.
Reluctantly, Tord let his gaze fall upon the bite.
Jesus fuck.
There was a whole chunk of flesh that was missing, roughly 4-5 inches wide, 8-10 inches long. It didnât seem to go deep enough to reach bone, and the amount of blood had hidden any distinction between the layers of skin, but it wasnât that deep. Just really long and really bloody.
The Norwegian shuddered. He felt like he should be throwing up, but he was barely nauseous. Barely even present in the moment at all. All he could do was stare at the gore, which stared right back at him so intensely it was like it was conscious.
His brain had blanked. He was worried about Tom, this whole scenario was horrifying, but the bloodied mess was more jarring than it was gross, at least to him. It wasnât like he was just choosing to not be disgusted, it was.. just not occurring to him.
In his defense, maybe witnessing this sort of thing constantly had desensitized him. His father wasnât some bloodthirsty murderer or something, Tord knew that, but he was still violent.
Tord had unwillingly let his hand float forward, barely grazing the edges of the wound.
Ew. Ew. Ew. If anything grossed him out, it was how it felt. It was the one thing that genuinely made him cringe, and now he felt that same simultaneously mushy, tough texture all over.
Tomâs blood was sticky. Not maple syrup sticky, like impossible to wash off and gets in your hair somehow and all that uncomfortable shit, but glue stick sticky. Sticky enough to notice, but somehow too dry to keep anything attached at all.
Almost feeling his stomach heave, he reached for the first aid kit heâd fished from Tomâs bathroom. He opened it with twitching, almost bony hands, and got to work on disinfecting Tomâs arm.
Stitches probably would have been more appropriate, definitely more impactful, but Tord wasnât exactly a doctor.
Once he fixed up Tomâs arm to the best of his ability, he scooted back against the wall and just stared.
He needed to clean up this blood, or at least get a towel.
So, he did just that. He got up and wandered around Tomâs house until he found a towel that was a darker color, then splayed it on top of the blood that had been pooling around Tomâs arm prior to Tord wrapping it.
It was still sort of bleeding, so Tord had wrapped it pretty heavily.
He didnât know what to do now.
Tom was fine. He knew that. He could see his chest rising and falling with every breath, and heâd already checked his pulse before, but what was he supposed to do while he waited for Tom to wake up?
After taking care of his friend the best he could in the moment, he sat down and leaned against the wall.
He stared at Tomâs sleeping face, gaze fixed upon the dried tears that stuck to his cheeks.
Tord slowly exhaled.
What would even.. happen to Tom now?
Itâs not like they knew what that thing was to begin with. It was basically mindlessly attacking, and it was obviously not like any other animal.
Tordâs stomach sank.
How would Tom explain this to his mother?
He wouldnât be able to tell her anything at all. If she found out, sheâd probably never let him see Tord or Edd or Matt ever again, let alone leave the house to begin with.
Tord might not ever see him again. Nothing would ever be the same.
Aside from all the weird stuff that had happened, this was the most fun that Tord had experienced in a long time. The most he talked to somebody in a long time, the most heâd opened up, the most heâd just felt free.
What was Tord even supposed to do?
It was his fault this happened. He knew it was. He could have forced Tom to stay home or not told him he was going at all or just something. But he dragged him into this and now Tom was really hurtâthat was undeniable. Not only that, but heâd probably be in so much trouble now and it was Tordâs fault.
What if Tomâs mother found out and she called the cops? Or worse, what if she called his dad?
Tord couldnât deal with this. He hoped Tom would wake up soon. He could check on him and they could talk about where to go from here.
Please wake up.
***
What felt like hours passed.
It was probably only thirty minutes.
Tord watched as Tomâs eyes flew open, and the boy laid there in silence for maybe ten seconds. It was momentarily unclear if he was even really present and aware of what was happening.
At least until he suddenly sat all the way up, looking directly towards Tord. His eyes werenât their usual blackâinstead, the typically fear-induced paper white. The look on his face said enough. He was awake, and what had happened was quickly flooding back to him.Â
He glanced around, then looked at Tord, who was just.. puzzled. Kind of impatient. Worried.
âAre you okay?â
What?
Was Tom really asking him that?
Tord stared intensely at the other before replying. âIâm fine. I should be the one asking you that.â
âI didnât see what happened after.. oh.â Tom had attempted to crawl closer to Tord at that moment, but he quickly noticed the state of his own arm. Luckily, he managed to notice before he put any weight on it.
Tord clenched his teeth and his face contorted into a frown, visually screaming âyikesâ before he averted his gaze towards Tomâs injured arm.Â
Tom stared at his arm, gaze fixated on it as he moved to sit back down. He pulled his knees to his chest with his unscathed arm, expression blank.
Either that, or Tord just sucked at picking up body language. It was hard to really decideâTom would reasonably be in shock.
Slowly, he lifted his head to look Tord in the eyes. âHow long has it been?â
Tord hadnât actually been sure of the answer to that. The time he was waiting for Tom to wake up felt ridiculously long, and he had to just let himself be bored. If he got distracted and Bailey came home, or Tomâs body freaked out due to his injuries, he needed to be there.Â
âI, uh. I dunno. I wasnât looking at the clock. Just sitting here. Making sure your mother didnât come home,â he mumbled, glancing away. âIt couldnât have been that long, I donât think. I mean, it felt long, but everything outside looks..â
He paused, looking around until he spotted a window.
â..About the same as when we left.â
âSo my mum doesnât know?â Tom blurted out. Of course that was a concern. Tord hated that it was a concern.
âShe has no idea.â He replied.
Tom gave a slight scowl, then his expression settled for a moment before he furrowed his brows. He seemed to be thinking hard about what to say next.
â..We donât even know what the hell that thing is that attacked me. We donât know what kind of diseases it could be carrying, where it came from, thereâs obviously not gonna be any books on the fucker. No reasonable way to ask around. It broke skin. It drew blood, it had itsâ teeth in me.â
With every word, Tomâs speech had quickened.
âTom- Tom.â Tord frowned, tensing. âI know Iâm not a doctor or something but I tried to disinfect it. I think your clothes saved you a little bit and itâs wrapped now, too.. itâs not just, like.. There. You know?â
Tom paused and looked at Tord, then down at the floor. He brought both hands to his own face quick enough for it to probably qualify as a slap, groaning. âWhy did I go back? I knew this would happen and I went back anyway when I KNEW something bad would happen. If it wasnât me, it would have been youâeither way, someone would have gotten hurt. Why did I let you go there and why did I go with you?â
Tordâs frown grew into almost a scowl and he began to urgently shake his hands, as if to tell Tom âNoâ. He shuffled uncomfortably. âNo, no! Tom, I- It was my idea. I decided it would be a good idea and we both know that thereâs no reason it would be a good idea. Itâs not your fault.â
Tom lifted his head again. âWhat? You- You gave me multiple chances to leave. You said you wouldnât even stop me from running off. It was your idea, but it was my decision to go along with it.â
âYou going along with it might have saved my goddamn life.â Tord blurted out. âI didnât want any of it to happen, but now you can say you returned the favor.. for last time. Not that you ever owed me, but now you can be more certain that you donât.âÂ
âAt the cost of a WHOLE CHUNK of my skin GONE?â Tom spat, his hands sliding to his hair. He tugged absentmindedly, curls poking between his chubby fingers.
The Norwegian scowled at the description. Itâs not that he blamed Tom for being upset, but he wasnât really familiar with deescalation in this manner.
âTom- Tom, just, eh. Fuck,â he dug his nails into the fabric of his pants, fingers curling around his knees firmly. âYouâre.. alive. Youâre conscious. That much flesh wonât just magically come back, but it will scar over and your skin will be thicker. Stronger.â
Tord knew he sounded stupid. Really stupid. He just didnât know what else to tell Tom, so he had to go with the sort of stuff he used to reassure himself instead.Â
Tomâs grimace remained.Â
â..Thanks.â he murmured. He didnât seem much better, but it was this or relentless shouting. Tord didnât like the shrieks, even if they werenât by any means unreasonable.
Something that had happened pretty often as of late was gauche silenceâa stillness that engulfed the two boys or even their whole friend group anytime that something disquieting had happened. It was like everyone had their batteries taken out, or their voiceboxes yanked straight from their chests. That was happening again, but Edd wasnât here to suggest a course of action heâd accidentally guilt the others into, nor was Matt to fall for it.
Tord didnât get to think about that for much longer, because Tom haphazardly attempted to stand up. Itâs not like the injury had been in his legs, but like most people, it wasnât exactly easy to push himself up without using his arms.
Tord lifted his head, staring, assuming Tom would need his help shortly.
He was proven right, because Tom managed to bend his arm wrong trying to push himself up and groaned pretty loudly in pain.
Tordâs head throbbed, but he was trying to not make a big deal out of that right now. At least he still had his head.
âTom,â Tord practically jumped to his feet, extending an arm to the other. âYouâre gonna hurt yourself more, slow down.â
The other unenthusiastically grabbed Tordâs hand, his eyes narrowing. He only hummed as a thanks.
Upon getting to his feet, Tom turned and trudged for the stairs. Tord looked between the sofa and the stairs, then followed Tom.
Tom pushed his door open, stepped over to the bed and sat down. When Tord didnât immediately follow suit, Tom raised a brow.
âSit.â he huffed, patting an empty spot next to himself. Not knowing what else to do, Tord just went along with it and plopped down next to Tom, shaking the bed for a few moments.
Tom leaned back until he was fully laying down. Tord stared at him.
âTord, how am I supposed to hide this from my mum?â The Brit questioned, motioning towards his wrapped up arm with a shaky hand. âIt hurts. Really fucking hurts. Iâll be in the hospital within hours of my next exchange with her and then I wonât be allowed to even go to school.â
Tord eyed Tomâs taped up wounds, furrowing his brows. âI mean, once you get used to it, it wonât be hard to hide. Right?â
Tom rolled onto his sideâthe side of his good arm, and pulled his knees to his chest. He leaned forward and let his chin rest atop his kneecaps.
âItâs not that easy.â
âItâs not just hiding how much it hurts, Iâll readjust to that, itâs..â he trailed off, momentarily letting his teeth dig into his bottom lips. The room fell silent, the awkwardness quickly setting back in.
âSheâll see it eventually. I know she will.â He finally added, letting out a sigh.
Tord raised a brow. âHow can you be so sure?â
âFor the record, I think I know my mother better than you know my mother. But to really answer your question, she- ugh, she checks.â
Tord fell silent, not really sure what Tom even meant by that.
âShe checks you.. for.. ehhh.. what?â he tipped his head to the side, frowning.
Tom lifted his head and stared at Tord as if he were supposed to understand way before this conversation. His eyes narrowed before he sat up once more.
âYouâve seen my arms. You know my mum eventually did, too. I just never told you guys what happened after.â He started, glancing down at his sleeved arms. The boy rolled up his left sleeve, staring at his scarred forearm.
âAfter she found out about it, she started this.. routine. Every day after school, she goes through my bag and looks at my arms. I havenât done it in forever because of that. Which in theory isnât bad, but that means anything new that does show up will make her panic.âÂ
Tord was quiet again, eyeing Tomâs arm.
Some of this obviously wasnât new informationâEdd knew, Matt knew, Tord knew. There were probably complete strangers that knew. The school admins had to have known, knowing Tomâs mother.
Checking Tom though..
Tord didnât really know how to feel.
The goal was to get Tom not to hurt himself and it worked, but now it was working against him, because this injury wasnât self-inflicted. If it were anyoneâs fault, itâd be Tordâs.Â
âHow thoroughly does she check?â Tord questioned. That was a good place to start, right?
Tom had only said âarmsâânot âhis whole armâ, not âonly his forearmâ, just âarmâ.
âI guess it depends,â Tom said, suddenly pulling himself to his feet so quickly he nearly tumbled over. Tord instinctively reached for him, which Tom seemed to not notice. âItâs usually just, like, here.â he said, motioning over his forearm with his pointer finger. âIf I give her a reason to be scared though, sheâll check elsewhere.â
He paused, as if he wanted to add something to that, but he just awaited an answer from Tord.
âIf you donât give her a reason to check, it should be okay, shouldnât it? No pain, no blood, no reason to look. I mean, itâs.. Your upper arm.â Tord said.
âIâm not allowed to lock my door.â Tom blurted out, almost inappropriately so. âEven when Iâm changing. Sheâs scared Iâll do something stupid. How am I supposed to hide my arm if sheâll just.. walk in whenever she wants?â
Tord pursed his lips.
What Tom was describing probably wasnât okayâbut he didnât know how to even begin to comment on that, so heâd have to find a solution to it instead.
âYou have these big blankets. You could start getting under the covers to change.â
â..I could.â Tom mumbled.
Tord hummed. âAlso, when youâre getting changed.. take that arm out of the sleeve last, and when the other shirt goes on, put that sleeve on first.â
Heâs so smart! Those teachers who looked at him funny just didnât get it.
Tom was currently someone who was looking at him funny, he just wasnât a teacher.
âYouâre smart,â he stated rather bluntly. âbut I do need to do that right now or thereâs a chance she will walk in on this and phone the fuzz.â
Tord narrowed his eyes, not sure what that really meant, but he got the âget outâ part of that somehow.
He took a couple of steps back, then simply turned around and exited the room. Tom shut the door behind him pretty fast.
There were a few moments of eerie silence, then the click of the door locking.
Tord was left to stand and think in the meantime. It wasnât long that his isolation left his mind to race, but it was dreadful nonetheless.
What was he supposed to do about this? What was he supposed to make of any of this? It was burdening in this way that he probably wouldnât have been able to describe to anyone. Not because he was scared to, but because the words couldnât formulate. Actually, the thought of telling someone else wasnât quite scary at all. Maybe stressful, but it didnât frighten him. Not the way things used to. Huh.
No, instead of being fearful of what was to come, he felt.. Stunted. Tired. Bored? Annoyed?
Maybe âboredâ wasnât quite the right word. Actually, no. It was pretty accurate Tord had felt bored for all his life, but it had been climbing in intensity for a few weeks now. Maybe a month.
Now that stuff was actually happening though, things that were rather extreme and should have been horrifying for him, he.. didnât really care.
That was a lie, actually. He cared. He definitely cared about Tom. He cared that Tom got hurt today. Tord cared that it was probably his own fault. He wasnât in some state of terror, however. If anything, he was angry. Angry that he let it happen, angry at Tom for caring so much. He was angry at the adults in their lives for making Tomâs first survival instinct not to call for help or go to the hospital, but to hide.
Hide and ask for advice on how to hide what happened. Because his mama would be angry.
Because Tomâs mother probably didnât care about him the way she should have. Tord could see right through her the longer he thought about it. She was so.. fake.
Tord knew his pappa was bad, but this was different. Tage never tried very hard to really look good to begin withâhe was an angry person, a violent one, a cruel one.
Bailey, though, it seemed she definitely tried to not appear as how Tom described her. Not that her effort was completely worth itâbits and pieces of Tordâs first impression of her always oozed through the cracks, even within the minimal interactions he had with her the night before.
Honestly, had she been accusing him of something? Had she been accusing Tom of something?Â
Tord thought about his father. The way Tage looked at him like he was a rabid, snarling mutt. In that moment, it occurred to him that Bailey probably saw Tom as a dog too.
Not an angry one. Like.. a puppy. A fragile hound with broken back legs. An animal who couldnât defend itself, a house pet.
Did all parents just assume they owned their children like unconscious ornaments?
Tom didnât even have a reason to be viewed the way he was. Tord had anger issues, ones he had likely inherited from his waste of a parent, but Tom?
Tord knew things about him. He knew that Tom had once picked up a habit that wasnât good for him, and Tord also knew that he eventually got caught in the midst of it. However, it didnât take Tom dragging steel across his hazel forearms for Bailey to behave like, for the lack of a better word, a total loon. Tom didnât breathe life into that fire to begin with, even if he did toss kindling into it later.
That wasnât fair. Not at all.
Tom had never really snuck around, not until recently. He made it obvious he wasnât that sort of kid. He was no goody two-shoes, but he wasnât some kind of rebel. He just tried to get by.
So.. why?
Why was his mother like that? Why did the colour drain from her face at the thought of her child experiencing anything in his life? Why couldnât she take a step back?
What was wrong with her?
âTord?â
Ah.
Tord had definitely heard Tomâs door open back up, but it hadnât really registered. The boy was now staring at him, wearing a different top than before. It was long sleeved and baggy, and he was in a pair of sweatpants now rather than jeans.Â
Tord looked Tom up and down for a few moments. He looked better. Not- Not as if he looked bad before, but he looked less stressed. He wasnât bleeding all over the place anymore.
Either way, heâd rather Tom be alive and stressed than at peace and dead.
âHi.â Tord stared at the other, who was returning the eye contact with a pretty unyielding expression.
Tom didnât say anything.
Tord also didnât say anything.
â..You okay?â Tom questioned after maybe a minute. In that single minute, Tordâs thoughts kind of just went silent. It wasnât even like before, where he was letting his brain loop. It was just.. Blank. Not peaceful by any means, but certainly uneventful.
Tord squinted, as if he had to think about what Tom was actually saying. In reality, his head was starting to pound and it was making it difficult for him to focus. Well.. it had been like that this whole time, the silence followed by the sudden check-in just left him disoriented. The adrenaline from before had seriously wound down.
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It had already been several minutes, Tord halted in front of the edge of the woods. It looked pretty vacant. That made Tom nervous, but it was far away from another certain woodland place, so it probably wouldnât be too bad.
âWhat is this?â Tom questioned, staring up at the leaves that overtook every branch and limb.
Tord approached the entrance with light steps. âHideout, I guess. I come here on occasion when I donât think Iâll be let back in for a while, or if I just.. donât want to be at home. Which is often. I wanted to show you something here.â
He entered the woods, and Tom carefully followed, standing close to Tord.
âThis isnât some kind of elaborate prank to scare me, right?â He questioned. Look, the timing may have been off, but he couldnât fully trust Tord. The accusation was mostly lighthearted, anyway.
Well. Maybe he couldâve. It was just hard to really read this guy.
âItâs not a prank or joke. I swear, Tom.â Tord replied, sounding pretty certain. âI wouldnât do that right before the other stuff, anyway.â
Right. The cave.
Tom shouldâve probably had a bit more faith in Tord, it was just.. hard, sometimes.
Tom gazed around towards the surrounding trees. âOkay. I believe you.â
Tordâs pace slowed, just a little. âYou do?â
âYeah. I believe you.â Tom affirmed. Was Tord doubting it?
Well.. no, that was fair. Things had been weird.
â..Thanks, Tom.â Tord said.
Huh.
It really wasnât a trick.
Tord stopped and extended an arm, blocking Tom from moving forward. âHold on.â
âHuh?â Tom stopped as Tord had clearly been wanting him to, looking up at him with mild confusion.
âWhen I show you.. Can you, like.. not say anything to anyone else? I swear itâs not a trick or something thatâs going to hurt you, itâs just-â Tord lowered his arm. âI guess Iâm worried about my father catching wind of it.â
âI wonât tell anyone, Tord.â Tom said.
âDo you promise?â asked the other.
Reluctantly, Tom lifted his arm and stuck out his pinky finger. âI promise you.â
Tord stared at Tomâs hand in momentary silence, then lifted his own arm and interlocked his pinky with Tomâs.
Tom felt almost entranced for a moment, then Tord let go.
The two stared at each other for maybe five seconds, then Tord turned around and stepped forward. âCome on, then.â
They were back to walking for maybe one minute, then Tord stopped. Tom came to a halt as well.
Stood in front of the two was a car, some variant of a BMW. It was a mildly deep red, a color which would have honestly been nice if not for the many chips and scratches, some of which revealed rust underneath.
However, despite the vehicle not really being all that presentable, it looked.. Almost usable. It didnât seem to be stuck in the ground in any way, and the tires werenât blown, which was the most surprising.
Tom glanced over at Tord, who looked quite proud.
âI found it a couple of years ago. I donât.. know how it got here. It was already there when I started spending time here. I decided I wanted to do something with it, though.â The Norwegian explained, stepping over to the vehicle. He patted the hood like it was an animal receiving affection.
Tom looked the car up and down, starting to connect some dots.
âYouâve been repairing it.â he stated, an open realization.
Tordâs stupid little grin got bigger.
âBy yourself?â Tom added on, and now Tord was practically bursting at the seams trying not to laugh.
âAlmost. Nobody physically helped me, but I did ask around for advice. Teachers and stuff.â Tord replied, upfront about how proud he was of himself. âI read books, too. Lots of them. I want to be a mechanic someday, or something where I can do stuff like this all the time, so.. Itâs good practice.â
Tom was practically slackjawed. He knew that Tord wasnât exactly stupid, but this was something else. Who knew how screwed this car was before Tord found it?
âThatâs.. fucking awesome.â he replied, astonished. âAre you going to drive it?â
âNot yet. I have to.. Keep working on it. Thereâs a few more things, mainly the seatbelts. Driverâs belt is torn completely off, for some reason. Kind of ominous. Itâs not like I can buy parts, I have to stumble upon replacements or take them from other old vehicles, so it takes me a long time.â
Why was Tom being entrusted with this information? Theyâd resolved their issues maybe twelve hours ago. Maybe less.
Tord sat down in the grass, leaning back against the car. âI brought something else. Donât freak out.â
Tord wasnât about to take back what he said about tricking Tom, was he?
Tom stared down at Tord, and Tord returned the gaze, puzzled. âWhat?â
âIs it something weird?â Tom asked, obviously fearful.
âWh.. no, eh, kinda. Not weird, more like something I shouldnât have.â
That did not help.
Tom took a step back.
Tord realized how that could come off, his eyes widening. âNot- Itâs nothing I could harm you with, okay? Not a weapon, not besides the gun, but you know I have that already.â
âThen what the hell is it?â Tom questioned, letting his tensed shoulders slump once again.
âJust sit down, Iâm worried about someone seeing if I just.. Openly hold it. I donât know if someone could randomly find this place like I did.â
Tord patted the grass next to him.
Giving up and being a little morbidly curious, Tom took a deep breath and took a seat next to the other teen, crossing his legs. âOkay, show me.â
Tord opened his coat and reached into it, fumbling for just a moment before lifting his hand back out.
First, a carton of Silk Cut smokes. It didnât seem to be full. When Tord opened it to present them further to Tom, only two cigs stood in the box, one of which leaning into the opposite corner of the container.
Tom just stared, and Tord placed the carton on Tomâs thigh without much of a thought. Tom blinked slowly.
âThatâs not all.â Tord said, going into his inner pocket once again. Tom watched the pocket bulge out for a second, as if Tord had wrapped his hand around something cylinder.
Tord took his hand back out.
Ohhhhh.
Oh dear.
Tord was now holding an unopened bottle of Michelob Ultra. Tom hadnât recognized the brandâBailey drank white wine, not beer. It wasnât hard for Tom to connect the dots, though.
â..Tord, why did you.. bring this stuff?â
Tomâs tone wasnât easy to read. Concern mixed with genuine confusion.
Tord shuffled, retrieving a small lighter now. He set it on his leg.
âI wanted to, uh, try them. I havenât before, and I just want to see what the fuss is about. I wanted someone to be here for it, just because.. I guess itâs a milestone, but I canât be with my parents for it, obviously. I would have asked Edd or Matt, but Matt probably would have freaked out, and Edd might have just refused.â
Tom clenched his jaw.
âIâm not trying to get you in trouble. You do not have to do this with me. I just wanted someone to watch. Thatâs all. So Iâm not doing this for nothing.â
This was conflicting.
Tord never implied that Tom was going to take part to begin with, but now that the other was explaining himself, he kind of wanted to give it a try.
At the same time though, he was a little disgusted. Not with Tord, but the drink and cigarettes themselves. The smell of tobacco made him feel sick at times, and he really didnât like when his mother drank.
Tomâs mother didnât have much self-control, though. Tom knew that. Tom also knew that heâd stopped doing other bad things before, too. Even if he was still being checked practically every day for it.
There was no reason to think heâd drink or smoke. He could get it over with, go home, and do what he needed to do to get the smell off of him. Shower, brush his teeth, eat, drink water. It couldnât be that bad.
Tom hadnât realized that he was kind of spacing out.
âUh, Tom. You donât have to be here if you donât want to. Really, itâs fine. I get it.â
Tord sheepishly reached for the carton on Tomâs lap, but Tom snatched it up first.
âI was just thinking it over. Can you light it for me?â
âWhuh- You want to do it? First?â Tord asked, yet still lifted the lighter. Tom opened the carton and fished out the cigarette that was standing up straight.
âSure,â Tom said, lifting it to his mouth. He gulped softly. âMaybe itâll hype you up.â he added.
Tord cracked a smile. âOookay then..â he said. He held the lighter close to the cigarette, but not right up against it. âYou ready?â
âMm-hmmm.â Tom gave a very gentle nod. He tried to smile, but the little cancer stick between his parted lips was preventing him from doing so.
There was a sharp sort of sound, and Tom was met with a small flame in front of his face. Tord slowly moved his arm until the flame made contact with the rolled up tobacco. He held it there for maybe three seconds, then let go of the wheel, the flame quickly disappearing.
Tom took a deep breath, moved the filter away from his mouth, then promptly started coughing like heâd inhaled food wrong.
Dummy.
Tord was going to just light his cigarette next and move on, but Tomâs coughing had obviously caught him off-guard a little bit. He started to snicker, which Tom wanted to yell at him for, but he was too busy choking on smoke.
It took a bit, maybe a minute, but Tom managed to fully subside the weird feeling in his throat that followed inhaling that hard and coughing so much.
âUgh, that..â he paused, thinking. âTastes like absolute shit. Why do adults do this?â
âProbably not the taste. Iâve heard it makes them feel better.â Tord said, then lit his own smoke. He didnât take a puff quite yet.
Tom blinked. âI practically coughed up a lung just now, I really donât get the appeal.â
Tord shrugged, bringing the filter to his cracked lips. He took a breath, noticeably lighter than the one Tom took.
He pulled the cigarette away and paused, tensing up a bit. He patted his chest with his free hand, then let out a few heavy coughs. It was nowhere near as bad as Tomâs previous choking fit, though.
âMmm. Thatâs. Ew. Yeah, I see your point..â Tord mumbled, scowling. He reached for the beer, then looked at Tom. âCan you hold, my, ehh..â he held the cigarette out. âSo I can open this? Just for a second.â
Tom shrugged, carefully taking the cig from Tord. He was careful not to get the lit part on his skin. He slid down slightly against the car, getting comfortable.
Tord fumbled with the lid of the beer. Opening glass bottles didnât take rocket science, the boys did have to on occasion, but it wasnât really something any of them liked to do.
He pulled his sleeve over his hand, probably to avoid hurting himself with the lid.
Tom watched, then looked at the two cigarettes occupying each hand. Without really thinking about it, he lifted one to his lips and took another puff. He still coughed this time, but not really as bad.
Tord stopped and looked at Tom just as Tom pulled the cig away. He blinked.
âWhy are you smoking mine?â
Whoops.
Tom blinked, confused. He stared down at the filter of the cigarette that he just took a hit from, blinking. How did Tord even realize that?
âWha.. How? They look the exact same.â Tom muttered.
Looking down at the beer bottle again, Tord gave a soft hum. âYours is shorter because itâs been lit for longer, and you never switched what hand yours was in, so the one you just puffed would have to be mine.â
He got the bottle open as he said that, giving off a soft grunt. He looked at Tom, then held his hand out. âHere, Iâll make it even. Give me yours.â
Pursing his lips, Tom bashfully handed his cigarette to the other. Tord took it, then did exactly what Tom had done before, absentmindedly inhaling it.
This felt kind of strange.
Tord set the bottle between him and Tom. âOkay, letâs switch back. To be fair.â
The two exchanged cigarettes, though it really didnât matter anymore.
âWho should drink first?â Tom questioned, honestly nervous. This was more nerve-wracking than smoking, really. Mainly because he knew the consequences of it already.
âI can.â Tord mumbled, grabbing the bottle and lifting it. âLike I said, you donât have to do anything. I just wanted someone here.â
He pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips, taking a decent swig. His face scrunched up.
âHow is it?â Tom softly questioned. For a second, he almost reached for the bottle to take it from Tord, but he waited.
Tord scowled again. âKind of bitter. Very mildly, ehhh.. Apple.. Ish. I donât know how to explain. Itâs real subtle. Here.â he lifted his arm, then opted to just.. Make Tom drink it.
He held the bottle to Tomâs lips, and Tom, not really knowing what to do, just parted them and tilted his head back. Tord poured maybe five capfulls into his mouth before setting it down between the two of them. Considering how shallow the lid was, that wasnât much.
Tom grimaced, taking a few moments to process the taste. He wasnât sure what Tord was on, but it wasnât subtle. It was strong and honestly kind of gross.
It was difficult to really put into words, had Tord asked him for his opinion on it. The fizz on his tongue reminded him of soda, but the aftertaste was kind of weird, almost stale or sour. There were probably better alcohol options out there, but Tord couldnât buy this stuff by himself. He had to have taken it from somebody else, leaving him very little choice in the matter.
He looked at Tord. âWhyâd you do that?â he asked.
âWe keep passing things back and forth, I thought it would be easier.â Tord said.
Tom squinted. âI mean, I guess.â
He lifted his hand to his mouth and wiped it, though there wasnât really anything to wipe. The action just made Tom feel a little cleaner.
âHey, Tom?â Said the other.
He looked over at Tord, straight-faced. âHuh?â
âThe car, uhh.. I was going to tell you.. Iâm gonna drive off in that thing, one day. Away from my dad. Iâm gonna let you guys ride around in it, too.â Tord said. His expression was difficult to read. He wasnât making eye contact, but he was still facing Tom.
âIt wonât be so busted up. I mean.. itâs not terrible now, but I mean- the paint job and stuff. Itâll be cool.â He added.
Tom found himself responding without much thought.
âI already think itâs cool.â
Tordâs gaze was brought directly back to the other. It was still not really easy to tell what was going through his head, at least until he smiled.
âDo you mean that?â
Tom didnât know what the hell was happening, but it was making his stomach twist and turn all sorts of ways. He felt kind of overheated, but not nauseatingly so.
âI-I mean, yeah. I mean it. Itâs cool. You did it by yourself, took.. initiative, yanno?â
He wasnât sure why he pronounced it that way, but whatever.
Tord twiddled his fingers, his eyes going from side to side for a few moments. His smile had grown wider, but not in a way that was ominous. A grin so sincere and not done out of joy for Tomâs suffering (Tord pranking him or just generally being himself) was rare.
Not that he never genuinely smiled at all, it was just kind of odd that.. Tom caused him to smile like that. Like Tom had really made his day.
Tord eventually returned his gaze to the other, pulling his knees to his chest. âThank you.â
Tom couldnât force his smile down.
For a few moments, the two shared eye contact.
It seemed that neither of them knew what to say.
Tord wasnât so bad.
He was funny, like.. when he wasnât being mean. He was apparently really smart, smart enough to fix a car all by himself. With no prior experience, by the way.
On top of that, with the whole car thingâthat had to have taken some insane willpower. Tom wondered how often, if at all, Tord had considered dropping the project.
And, today.. Tord punched his dad. Tom often wished he had the courage to stand up to his mother like that. Not that he thought she deserved to be hit, but he wished he could do something to make her understand.
Tom wanted to think that Tord probably would, but it was hard to settle on a thought process regarding that after last night. He was so.. polite. Abnormally quiet. Patient.
Maybe that was just how he was when you got to know him; kinder. Maybe he was way more talented and knowledgeable than he usually let on.
He wasnât great at speaking, but in the many interactions the two had had since yesterday, he clearly meant well.
Maybe this was all the fault of Tordâs father. His cruel, barbaric excuse for a parent. Only someone beyond redemption could do those kind of things to their own son just for the fuck of it.
âTom?â
Bwuh.
Tom blinked slowly, remembering where he was and what was happening.
Tord was still staring at him directly in the face, but he looked much less.. entranced than before. He seemed concerned now.
âAre you, ehh.. are you well?â The Norwegian questioned.
âUh, uh. Iâm.. yeah. Why?â Tom ever so slightly tipped his head to the right, puzzled.
Tord gave Tomâs left cheek a poke with his pointer finger. âYou were making a face.â
Tomâs face scrunched up a little. âA face?â
âYeah,â Tord nodded. âA funny one. You usually make that face when youâre trying not to get mad. Or when youâre thinking. Iâve seen it before.â
How would Tord even notice something so specific?
Tom felt woozy.
âOh. Iâm- yeah, Iâm fine. I was just thinking. I guess
You were right about me making funny faces when Iâm thinking, in that case.â He said, giving an awkward chuckle. It was kind of forced. Not because he was having a bad time with the other, but he just.. needed to get adjusted.
Maybe he could have another drink. He wasnât sure, really. Adults liked that stuff, and there was a first for everything..
The thing was, when his mum drank, she just got really sad and tired. Sometimes sheâd just get more clingy, but she was often so emotional that she wasnât really decipherable.
Tom didnât want to be like her.
Then again, he could always prove he wasnât. Test the waters.
He looked down at the beverage that rested between his and Tordâs legs.
Would Tord even be okay with that?
What if Tom got completely blasted and Tord didnât know what to do?
God, what if he couldnât sober up before his mum came home?
There was a first for everything.
Tom reached for the bottle and took another swig, then another, then another-
Tord grabbed the bottle and practically ripped it from his hand.
âDo NOT do that!â He spat, his words tearing through the air.
Tom sputtered for a second, blinked, then looked at Tordâs worried face.
He was on the verge of a pout, his lips slightly parted. His grey-blue eyes were wide and his eyebrows were furrowed to a point that looked almost physically uncomfortable.
âSs.. sorry.â Tom frowned. He promptly pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head atop them, guilty. Had he had the eyes of any other person, they would have probably been a little glassier than usual.
Tordâs own expression softened. He stared at the other for a moment, then looked at the bottle.
He took two, maybe three swigs. About the same as Tom.
âNow weâre even,â he stated, attempting to be reassuring. âEven if itâs really not worth it, taste-wise.â
Tom gave the other a little, stupid smile. His tone stayed low. âYou donât have to drink it if you donât like it.â
He wasnât a fan of the taste either. He just wanted to feel cool.
Tord placed the bottle on the grass and re-lidded it. âWhat do we do with it then? I donât like wasting things, you know.â
He poked the other on his shoulder. Tom shifted slightly.
âI could finish it while weâre walking, to.. eh. You know..â He suggested.
That was a maybe, though.
But maybe, if something else bad happened, he wouldnât have to remember it this time!
He was still mixed on it, all things considered. How would he avoid getting caught? Heâd never faked sobriety before, let alone been anything other than sober to begin with!
Tord pursed his lips for just a moment.
âWill you drink it slowly, and please sit down if you feel bad?â
The brunet wondered what the other was thinking. Was he burdened by the thought of Tom becoming a nuisance under the influence? How reluctant was he, exactly?
As of recently, Tord had a habit of just being blunt. In recent weeks, Tom doubted that Tord would go out of his way to spare the otherâs feelings. At the same time, though, things had greatly changed in just the past day alone.
Maybe he was genuinely just.. worried.
Is this what worry for him was like from others?
Tord seemed to be allowing him to do it, but he was still expressing concern. It was weird. Why go along with it at all, if itâs a bother?
Tom started to think out loud just a little.
âDo you not want to have to babysit me?â He questioned. It was phrased almost goofily, though he did sort of mean it. Sort of.
Tord stood up right as Tom asked, extending his hand once he was on his feet. Either he didnât hear what Tom asked, or he was ignoring him, or he was just thinking about it before he answered.
While Tom was awaiting a response, Tord had pushed the white end of his cigarette on the roof of his beat up car, attempting to put it out.
It took a few seconds to actually get it to go out, the stench of smoke momentarily growing stronger.
Yuck.
The boy looked at Tord, then at the cigarette heâd basically forgotten heâd been holding. It was a miracle that he hadnât managed to drop it in the grass and start a fire of some kind.
He didnât know what to do with it, and Tord didnât seem to be present for whatever reason.
He put it back in his mouth, then took Tordâs hand. Tord pulled him up with a soft grunt, despite seeming a little bit dormant in the moment.
Tom brushed himself off, then bent down and reached for the bottle on the ground. Once he was back up, he stared down, then started to kick at a patch of dirt until there werenât as many leaves and grass. Then he dropped the cigarette on the ground, immediately following it with a firm stomp.
Tord gave a slight jump and looked at Tom, seeming to snap out of whatever he was thinking. âWh-huh?â
âI asked if you didnât want to babysit me.â Tom replied, straight-faced.
Tord squinted. âWhat?â
Tom took a moment to hold back a yawn, then sighed. âYou were telling me to be careful and stuff. I dunno. But not like how my mum does, sheâs really excessive about it and she always sounds scared. You sounded.. bored?â
âIâm not bored. I was just- I donât know the word for it. You had a lot before and I didnât want something to happen to you.â
So he was worried.
Tomâs head spun for a few moments, then it promptly shot down to his stomach, which churned like a sinking steamship.
His given reaction made him look like a blubbering foolâhe stood there in silence for a few seconds, opened his mouth to talk, yet found no words. His mouth stayed ajar for a moment or so, then he closed the gap between his lips and continued to stare.
Tord also stared, but not for as long. âYou know people other than your mother can worry about you, right?â
Tom wanted to scream.
âWELL, yeah..â he glanced down at the grass. âI know, but youâre usually not the one worried. Itâs usually Edd, or.. some teacher who pities me because Iâm..â he stopped for a moment.
He had a small scowl on his face, one that came from the hesitation to really say what he was thinking. â..Different.â
Tord pursed his lips and swallowed softly. It wasnât explicit whether or not he really got what Tom was saying, but the concern hadnât left his face.
âOur whole friend group is different, though.â
He frowned.
Of course he didnât understand.
Tomâs scowl simply became a saddened, small frown. He grasped the Michelob Ultra and took a few moments to adjust how his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. It was kind of getting hard to just stand there without complaints when he felt unhappy. He couldnât help but squirm and fidget.
âI mean, I know, but you know Iâm different from you guys. Edd and Matt and you.. Iâm not like you,â he murmured. âYou guys donât get the same glances I do. The same kind of insults. Sometimes I wonder if people other than us know what I am, I wonder if they know thereâs something wrong with me, wronger than usual anyway, but other times itâs only a matter of looking at me and seeing that I donât look like everyone else.â
Tordâs expression dropped to a straight face, his eyes a little wider than before. Maybe he was just getting more confused, or maybe, hopefully, it was clicking for him.
As Tord stared, Tom continued, his words speeding up. âMy mum doesnât even look like meâI mean, she does, we have the same eyes and hair and face shape, but if we had the same eyes as everyone elseânormal eyes, I wonder if people would even realize weâre related.â
The brit slowly, sharply inhaled. He bit his lip, then added onto his rant one more time.
âItâs not fair.â
Tordâs initial response was more silenceâsomething that caused Tom to seriously want to backtrack. Silence filled the air between them.
Why did he just dump all this onto this guy?
Why this guy?
He was about to do exactly what he thought he should be doing nowâbacktrack, apologize profusely, brush it offâbut Tord spoke first.
âI donât pity you. Not more than I pity everyone else,â Tord said. âYou are different, but that doesnât make me think less of you. I donât think that Edd or Matt think less of you for it, either.â
Huh.
âI mean.. I know that the reasons us three are picked on for reasons that are.. broader than what you deal with, but..â Tord paused, biting his lip.
Tom wasnât sure if he should fill the silence, or let Tord keep talking. He couldnât even think of what to add to begin with.
âI mean, you.. your appearance, your skin color, itâs not.. a flaw. Itâs just something about you that exists,â The Norwegian continued. âJust because a lot of people think the same thing doesnât mean theyâre all right. People donât just become shitty. Something makes them that way. Sometimes the group thatâs smarter and kinder has fewer numbers.â
Absentmindedly, kind of just thirsty, Tom took a swig of the alcoholic beverage in his grasp. It wasnât ideal, but it was still drinkable. The way it fizzed on his tongue before he swallowed it made him widen his eyes for a few moments. The fizz hit his mouth again and he was quickly reminded that this was practically the opposite of hydrating.
Tord didnât really react, but he didnât keep talking for much longer.
âI donât care about how you look or how people assume you grew up or how different you are. I care about you, Tom. Youâre my friend. Anybody with their head screwed on would agree with me.â
Neither of them could really, truly know, but the reality of it all was that neither of them exactly had their heads properly on the threads of their necks.
Tordâs words played in his head over and over.
The way he sounded saying them, every pause between a sentence, the emphasis on particular phrases, his stammers-
Tomâs vision was getting blurry. His lip quivered, his face got hot, his throat and chest simultaneously tightened.
Tom didnât really have time to think about what was happening. Warm tears were already rolling down his face in round beads akin to blood. He sniffled and raised a palm to his face, attempting to wipe his eyes with his full hand. His grasp on the bottle tightened.
There was a gap between Tord and Tom. One that was quickly about to be filled, because Tom lunged forward like an American football player, wrapping his arms around Tordâs neck and pulling the other close. The body of the bottle tapped against Tordâs shoulderblade, causing Tord to instinctively push himself forward half an inch or so.
Tom wanted to talk, he wanted to tell Tord that the words he just put in Tomâs head were the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him, but he just couldnât. He couldnât speak. The idea of opening his mouth to say something dropped stones in his throat, blocking his vocal cords like a dam.
All he could do was squeeze the other tight. If he couldnât verbalize his thoughts, this would be how he expressed his gratitude for the other, his joy, his immense comfort and-
âT-Tom?â
There was a gentle, firm pat on his upper back.
Tordâs voice was mostly steady, maybe nervous and unsure, but he seemed to mostly be present in the moment.
Tomâs arms fell slack, but not enough to drop back to his sides. His upper arms rested loosely on Tordâs shoulders.
How could they even come back from this? How could Tom come back from this?
Tom only gave a little buzz in response, still reluctant to speak. Tord probably would have assumed he was being ignored, otherwise.
âAre you okay?â The other questioned, only earning another hum from Tom.
Tord patted his back again, and that was enough for Tom to force a couple words out.
âIâm okay.â
He knew that he didnât sound or seem all that okay, but he couldnât help it. He just wanted to stand here for a while.
After a few moments, Tom mentally kicked himself in enough to make himself take a very small step back. His arms slid back with him until his wrists were resting on Tordâs shoulders, and now the two were just exchanging glances, too puzzled or maybe ashamed to hold eye contact. The bottle made another small thud against Tordâs back.
Tord opening his stupid mouth didnât help with what Tom was feeling.
No, he wasnât stupid and neither was his mouth, he just-
âThis would look really bad if your mum were here.â He blurted out.
That.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. UGH.
Tom quickly removed his arms from Tordâs body, taking another step back and wiping his eyes again.
He could suddenly find it in himself again to speak, but only for a moment.
Tord had promptly begun to laugh at Tomâs peeved response, while Tom was quickly met with a realization.
His mother.
Oh, shit.
SHIT.
What time even was it? They couldnât just stand here forever. If something happened at that cave, they needed to sort it out before Bailey got off work.
Despite all the years sheâd been working at that hospital, Tom had never been able to really grasp her schedule. Something was always changing. Tom couldnât keep up, especially during school days.
It amazed him how she was suddenly home almost every time he got off of school. He wondered how she hadnât been fired for constantly leaving work.
âTord.â Tom replied firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. âIf weâre gonna do this, we need to go now. Iâm really worried about my mum showing up and neither of us are there. You know she would be livid.â
It was like the last few minutes of them being here hadnât happened.
Tordâs expression dropped to a straight face, then he grabbed Tomâs hand without a second thought and started to pull him towards the way they came. âLetâs go, then.â
That startled Tom, but at least Tord understood his urgency. Tom just had trouble keeping up with Tordâs abruptness.
âWeâll go back to your house straight after, okay?â
Tom shot up with a simultaneously heavy, yet soft breath.
For a few moments, the boy stared at the blank, expressionless television in front of him with absentminded silence. The reflection of his sweaty face gazed back at him, lips slightly parted as his chest rose and lowered with heavy, noiseless breaths.
Eventually, he lifted a hand to his heavy, empty eyes and squinted, rubbing at each of them with his knuckle for around five seconds or so.
God, what time was it?
Tom blinked slowly, then absentmindedly rubbed his palm over his whole face before turning to glance at the portable clock on his nightstand.
Nine oâ clock.
He should probably get up, or his mum would be worried. If she was even home, anyway. Heâd probably go back to sleep if she was absent. Heâd been dreadfully, impatiently waiting for the school week to be over.
Grumbling, Tom threw his comforter off with a shiver, immediately regretting it as the cold air hit his exposed arms and lower legs. He instinctively shuffled down into his pillows.
âUgh..â
He pulled his knees to his chest, attempting to hype himself up for the morning before he got up. If he had school, he would have just gotten up immediately and whined the whole time. Thank God it was Saturday.
School.. he was glad it was the weekend.
Wait.
His gaze dragged to his bedroom door as the events of the previous evening hit him.
Suddenly ignoring how chilly he was, he practically threw himself off of his twin-sized mattress and stumbled to his feet.
Was he still here? Surely he wouldnât still be here. His mum would never allow that. Right? Right?
Ignoring his empty slippers on the edge of his bed, he paced over to his door, opening it so quickly that the knob nearly bashed into the wall. He managed to halt his movements before that had the chance to happen, luckily.
He darted down the hall and basically hopped down his stairs, disregarding the idea that his mother may have been home. Lord knows she would have had an aneurysm if sheâd witnessed that.
âTo-â
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the sofa.
Just as Tom had left him at the end of the previous night, Tord laid face-down in the cushions, flopped over like what vaguely resembled a corpse. That was a lighthearted thoughtâwell, it was supposed to be.
The room sat in silence momentarily, until a hum came from the supposedly unconscious teen in Tomâs living room.
Tord rolled onto his side with a huff, lifting his palm to his forehead as he squinted. âWere you saying something..?â
âIs my mum home?â Tom blurted out, now looking around. He hadnât heard anything besides himself and Tord, now that he was really thinking about it.
âUh.. oh. She, uh. I donât remember.. oh,â Tord scooted down the sofa into the blanket that Tom had lended him, then carefully sat up. âShe went to her.. job.. she woke me up to, like.. what was it?â
This was weird. Tom had never seen Tord in his freshly woken up state before, and he seemed much more.. hm. What was the word?
It just seemed like he had absolutely nothing going on in his head right now.
âOh, yeah. She said she trusted you to tell me to go home when you got up. Iâm.. shocked she left us alone actually, even if she trusts you.â
Tom was shocked too.
She trusted him?
There was no way she trusted Tord, right?
âDid.. did she say anything else?â The boy stammered, his posture awkward and stiff.
âUm.. I donât- I donât think so. If she did, I didnât hear. I fell back asleep after she told me the other stuff. Your sofa is comfortable.â
â..Thanks?â Tom glanced down for a moment, then back at Tord.
âI donât want to go home.â Tord stated, making the already clunky conversation more tense. It wasnât clear if he was speaking to Tom, or just talking in general.
I donât want you to go home.
Tom visibly frowned.
Tord didnât notice, throwing the borrowed comforter off of his thin figure. It landed on the arm of the sofa.
âHey, do you think youâd get in trouble if I tried to cook something? Would I get in trouble?â He questioned.
âUm,â Tom instinctively paced over to the fridge. âI can cook. I donât think itâd be very pleasant to explain, if she suddenly comes home while youâre at the stove.â
âDonât worry about it,â Tord shook his head. âI can eat later, if youâre worried about trouble.â
Mmm.
âWh- no,â Tom waved his palm in front of himself for a second, then made his way back over to Tord and stared down at him. âYou can, uh, you can cook. Sorry. I just- have to watch. Iâll deal with it if she comes home, okay?â
âAre you sure?â Tord stared back, straight-faced. Despite his double-checking, he didnât really sound all that worried about the aftermath of anything.
Tom nodded, reaching down to grab Tordâs wrist. He pulled the other up with a huff, not really picking up on Tord flinching at his grasp.
He led the other back to the kitchen, then let go.
âIf you know what you want to make, you can get the ingredients out while I go change. I donât mean to leave you hanging or whatever, but I kind of have a routine.. Mum insists I do it, for health reasons or something. I guess itâs fair.â
Tord blinked. âOkay.â
âOkay.â Tom also blinked, almost as if it was specifically part of his response to the other.
He turned, made his way back to the stairs, then his room.
He darted for his closet once he got back to his bedroom, wordlessly sifting through his clothes until he settled on a band tee. He had so many of these, it was honestly awesome. Only issue was being relentlessly taunted if he was spotted wearing one in public by a schoolmate, Bailey usually scared them off, but that tended to cause more issues once she wasnât present.
He retrieved a pair of baggy jeans from his dresser as wellâhonestly, they werenât just baggy, they were generally too big. It was a pain. He just had to manage.
Once he got changed, he wobbled off to the bathroom to wash his face.
As he splashed the warm water onto his skin, the sound of the sink started to make him zone out.
Honestly, he didnât know how this was happening. Just a day ago, Tord scared him beyond belief. Not that he would ever say it to Tordâs face.
Tord didnât need to sit there and analyze it to figure it out, though. Tom knew that. He hated that Tord knew that, too.
He didnât know how to feel, now.
He lathered his face soap into his palms, then began to carefully apply it to his face, momentarily shutting his eyes.
How did his mother come to trust Tord so quickly?
It didnât make sense. Did she just feel bad for him? Was she changing because Tom was getting older?
No way.
Thatâd be crazy.
Once Tom successfully washed and rinsed his face, he sighed and reached for one of the hand towels hung up next to the bathroom mirror.
He wiped at his face, but when he lowered the towel-
âUh, Tom?â
Oh, Jesus.
Tom flinched, inhaling sharply as he was met with Tord staring directly at him. How did he not hear him approach?
Tord snickered for a few moments, then quickly straightened his expression, glanced around, then back at Tom. âI was going to ask you about something.â
âUh- Du- Huh?â Tom muttered, swiftly placing the hand towel back in its usual spot. âWhat is it?â
Tord started to walk away, and Tom followed closely. âI know that you said it was a bad idea, but I was thinking about going to that cave again.â
Great.
âYou shouldnât,â Tom advised in return, sounding dead serious. âThe first time was close enough. I- you- itâs dumb, okay?â
Tord frowned. âI didnât say you had to come with me. Iâm telling you because I feel like I seriously need to know if itâs really dead or notâthat thing. I donât think I can rest until I know, Tom.â
Mmmm.
âSo you planned on going alone?â Tom followed Tord back downstairs, then to the kitchen, where unopened cooking supplies sat on the counter.
âItâs not like youâre tagging along, and I canât ask Edd, Matt, or any adult.â Tord explained. He presented the cooking supplies to Tom, blinking. âYouâre not just gonna cook for me, are you?â
Tom was thankful that Tord changed the subject, but now he wasnât able to openly question anything unless Tord mentioned it again.
âNo. I told you, Iâm just gonna watch. What are you cooking?â
Tord hummed, promptly taking that as the green light to just do whatever the hell he wanted. He grabbed the glass bowl that had been sitting out, then the box of pancake mix that Tom somehow hadnât noticed. âIâmmm⌠making us pancakes.â
Us.
âWh- you donât have to make me anything.â Tom shook his head anxiously.
Tord stared back at him, stone-faced.
âYou let me stay over for the night, you fed me multiple times, now youâre letting me use your dishes and food. All of this, even though I scared the hell out of you a week ago with a gun. Now, how do you like your pancakes? With or without chocolate chips?â
The Norwegianâs expression hadnât shifted in the slightest, immediately falling back to essentially emotionless once he was done making his case.
Taken aback, Tom stared at the other in silence for a few moments before relenting. â..With.â
Itâs not like he could really argue. Tord had made some really good points.
âThought so!â Tord exclaimed, finally cracking a smile again. He started to prepare the pancake mix, a clean pan already on the stove. It was definitely hot, but the heat wasnât set super high.
Tom stared at the pan, then looked at Tord. âAre you gonna grease it?â
Tord paused, glancing from his bowl of chocolate chip pancake batter, then to the pan, then to Tom. âHuh?â
âThe pan. You have to grease it, or the pancake will stick. Itâll be a pain trying to cook.â Tom explained, walking over the fridge.
Tord went back to mixing the batter. âI- Yeah, I knew that.â He mumbled, keeping his gaze on the bowl now.
âWrong.â Tom cheekily replied, returning to Tordâs side with a wrapped, partially used stick of butter in his careful grasp. He set it down on the counter and unwrapped it before retrieving a butter knife from the drawer closest to Tord. Tord awkwardly moved out the way and watched Tomâs movements.
Tord had probably already known heâd been caught in a little fib about knowing information he didnât, so the boy gave no argument. It wasnât anything that needed to be argued about, anyway. Not after the past couple of weeks that these two have had.
âYou just- get a small bit, but not too little, and then melt it in the pan.â Tom explained, though Tord hadnât outright asked yet. Tord let out a soft hum.
The brunet carefully sliced off a small chunk from the stick of butter, using the butter knife to place it on the pan. He inhaled softly at the quiet, yet still noticeable sizzling that followed.
âThere.â He mumbled, then glanced at the bowl of pancake batter. After a moment, he looked back at the pan and used the butter knife to slide the butter around, successfully greasing it. Hooray!
âCan I pour this now?â Tord questioned, motioning to the bowl of batter. âIâm hungry.â
Tom gave a short wave of his hand. âYeah, go ahead. Just donât burn my house down. My mumâll be pissed.â
The Norwegian snickered as he poured a small amount of the batter onto the pan. Heâd opened his mouth to speak, but the sizzling of the batterâs contact with the pan made him pause. He inhaled sharply.
âWhatâs wrong?â Tomâs slouching was put to a stop and the boyâs shoulders slightly tensed. Tord shakily set the bowl back on the counter.
âThat was loud.â He mumbled, lifting his palm to his forehead.
Not really..?
Tom stared on in confusion. Maybe Tord was just startled, or still tired.
âSorry?â He replied, clearly puzzled.
Tord grumbled and reached for the spatula heâd set out while Tom was in the bathroom, staring down at the pancake that was currently becoming, well, a proper pancake. He looked at Tom for a moment, then carefully slid the spatula under the pancake and flipped it.
This was repeated a few more times, and a little over ten minutes passed. The two didnât exchange many words during this, aside from the occasional joke.
Finally, Tord had gotten the last couple of pancakes onto his own dish. He turned the stove off immediately, and gathered up the dishes heâd dirtied, placing them in the sink.
âIâm gonna wash these, can you take my food to the table for me, Tom?â Tord asked, rolling up his sleeves.
Tom was already grabbing Tordâs plate before he said anything. âYeah.â
âThanks!â Tord turned on the sink.
Another few minutes passed. Tord had washed the dishes and put them out to dry, and was now making his way over to the dining table, where Tom was about to start his second pancake.
âHi,â Tord said, pulling out the chair next to Tom and sitting down. He pulled his plate over to himself. âIs- it good? I havenât cooked for anyone else before.â
âOh, itâs great.â Tom replied.
Tordâs expression shifted into a smile. âThanks, Iâm glad.â
He wasnât lying or anything, it was actually pretty yummy. Tom was allowed to cook for himself, but the thought of doing it honestly made him nervous. The few times that he got hungry or bored enough to, there Bailey was, telling him how to do every little thing. It was honestly degrading, even if he didnât really blame her for her concerns.
Tord paused for a few moments to start eating, but eventually spoke up again when he was able.
âI, uh..â
Hmmm?
Food in mouth, Tom tilted his head in Tordâs direction with a hum.
Tord seemed to doubt himself for a second, staring at Tom with pursed lips. Okay, now Tom had to know. Tord actually hesitating to do anything made him a little antsy.
âItâs cool that you let me hang out here. You didnât have to do any of this,â he finally said. âIâm thankful you heard me out at all.â
Oh.
Tom stared, momentarily using his food as an excuse to not respond.
He swallowed and took a breath, poking at his remaining pancake and a half.
âWell, like.. I think itâs better that I listened.
Maybe youâll have less on your plate, and I wonât be so freaked out anymore. Edd and Matt will probably be happier, too.â
Tord nodded in agreement. âDo you think your mum will let me stay over more? Since she knows Iâm not gonna burn her kitchen down, yâknow.â
Hell no.
âProbably not,â Tom shook his head. âIâm pretty surprised that you were the first to stay over out of everyone, really. I wouldâve expected Edd.â
âWhy not Matt?â Tord replied. âEddâs too smart to be allowed to stay over. You donât think heâd be accused of sneaking around with you or something?â
Tom shook his head. âHeâs smart, but heâs not sneaky. Not like that, anyway. Mattâs.. uhh..â
There was a not very nice word he was looking for.
He cleared his throat, then restarted his sentence. âI think, if I had to rank how much you guys are trusted by my mum, before last night, Youâd come in last place. Then Matt, then Edd. No offense, but youâre pretty shady, and I think Mattâs not really present half the time.â That last bit was a joke.
Tord snickered. âShady? Awh.â He faked offense, just as Tom had advised against, then shook his head. âI wear a bulky, black jacket every day, big enough to probably fit at least one other person in it. Iâm probably the shadiest person you know.â
âYou got that right.â
***
Several minutes had passed, and both boys were done eating. Despite Tom getting to sit down and eat before Tord, they finished their plates around the same time.
Tord was standing at the sink again, washing the plates and forks that he and Tom had used.
âSo, what should we do next?â
Tom was visibly bored, laying stomach-first against the sofa. He barely caught a glimpse of Tord standing at the sink, partially because his eyes were half-covered by his arm.
He rolled onto his back, then sat up. He hadnât been laying down for long, his boredom causing a lot of trouble staying still.
âI donât know.â Tom shrugged. âIâm really bored. Itâs not so bad, though.. Youâre fun to talk to,â he admitted.
It was weird to really acknowledge that. Not shameful, at least Tom didnât think so, but definitely unfamiliar. Itâd definitely take a little bit of time to adjust to.
âThanks!â Tord replied, his lips pulling up into a smile. âI like being here. Shocked that I wasnât kicked out as soon as possible, though.â
Tom swung his legs against the floor, both being stopped mid-swing due to how low the sofa was to the carpet.
âI like you being here, too.â He said.
He liked Tord being there.
Was that weird?
It couldnât have been, they were technically always friends. It was just.. different. He didnât think heâd ever want Tord to be over at his house, even if he never straight up hated the guy.
âLooks like thereâll be another house I have to break into, besides my own.â Tord joked, placing the last plate on the drying rack.
Tom started to snicker. âPlease donât make me break you out of jail.â
âDarn!â Tord frowned, backing away from the sink. After a couple of shakes, he wiped his damp hands against his coat.
âAre you still wanting something to do?â Tom asked, standing up and stepping over to the counter. He hopped on one of the stools, then laud his head against the countertop.
âYep. Did you get an idea?â Tord questioned.
Tom sighed. âNope. Do you have any?â
âYouâre not gonna like it.â Tord replied.
Not this again.
â..Cave?â Tom asked, volume lowering as if he was trying to avoid someone hearing.
Tord nodded. âLike I said, I didnât really intend on bringing you with me. Itâd be something for me to do, but not for you, which kind of defeats the purpose of this conversation.. so, I donât really know. Seemed like that whole thing was, ehh..â he paused. âI donât know if thereâs a better word. You were messed up.â
Disregarding the last comment, Tom hopped off the stool again. âIâm not letting you go alone, mate. Are you crazy?â
Tord shrugged. âI donât wanna take you with me, if you get scared again. And if that thing is still kicking, it might be even worse.â
Tom stared at Tord in silence, then turned around and paced to the stairs.
âWhat- Where are you going?â Tord questioned, sounding more confused than really concerned. He followed closely behind Tom.
âPutting my shoes on. If youâre going, Iâm going. Got it?â Tom answered, turning and walking into his bedroom. He kneeled down and reached for his sneakers, then sat down on the floor and started to put them on.
Tord just sort of stood there. âBefore we go, I have to stop by my house.â
Ohhh.
âI havenât given the gun back, but I also.. donât have it on me. Itâs in my room, and I want to make sure I can reload it. I havenât used it since, uhh.. you know.â Tord explained.
Tom didnât respond initially, just breathing softly as he tied his shoelaces.
âI think we should just walk around for a bit again, too. Something like that. It was fun yesterday, and it makes talking a little more.. I donât know the word again. Talking is good, but itâs better when youâre doing something while talking, and walking is good for you. Plus, I wanna show you something.â
Huh?
âShow me what?â Tom said, glancing up at Tord from the ground. He grabbed onto the wall (more like placed his palm flat against it), then pulled himself up.
âYouâll see.â
That was a little concerning without context, but given what Tord just said before that, it probably wasnât something bad. Maybe just some annoying prank, at worst.
âIâm ready when you are,â Tom said, pacing in a small circle.
âLetâs go!â Tord exclaimed.
The walk to Tordâs house was pretty normal. Jokes being thrown back and forth while Tord led Tom through town. While he had technically been to Tordâs house yesterday, he hadnât shown up on purpose, and he hadnât memorized the route at all.
Though, the closer they got to the house, the quieter Tord got. Heâd respond if Tom said something, but once they were on Tordâs street, he stopped a few houses down and looked at Tom.
âWhen we get there, I want you to make sure you stay out of sight from the windows. I might take a while if my dad notices me, which is fine, but if he sees you..â
The teen fell silent.
Tomâs stomach churned.
âGotcha.â
Tord sighed and kept walking, eventually turning and darting for his side yard when they were approaching the house. Tom quickly ducked behind the tree that stood in front, examining the surrounding area.
He watched as Tord opened a window on the side of the house, then climbed inside swiftly. He left the window open.
A couple of minutes passed, Tom eventually getting a little bored and sitting down in the grass. He grabbed the ends of his hair and pulled them to the front of his body, attempting to prevent any tufts from poking out from the sides of the tree.
Rather suddenly, there was a shout. Initially, he couldnât figure out if that was Tord or not, but more yells followed it.
Unintelligible words being thrown back and forth, shrieked with the passion of swear words.
Tom pulled his knees to his chest, beginning to shake.
He wasnât hearing anything that sounded like Tord. Was he safe?
What the hell was going on in there?
Another cry followed that thought, then a slam, one he was pretty certain was a door.
He heard a thump not far away, immediately prompting him to poke his head out from behind the tree.
Tord was jumping to his feet by the time he caught sight of him, and the window was slammed shut with a force that probably broke the locks, evident by the sight of the windowâs bottom section promptly bouncing back up.
âWh- Tord?!â
Tom quickly stood up as well, looking Tord up and down urgently. The boy standing in front of him wobbled over to him, holding the back of his head with his left palm.
Heâd been in that house for maybe five minutes and he looked terrible.
While he appeared unscathed for the most part, his hair was sticking up in ways that just werenât natural (even for Tord), as if heâd been pulled around by it like a ragdoll. Once he was up close to Tom, his eyes were notably glassier than usual, and his face was ever so slightly puffy.
Tom felt like he was seeing something he wasnât supposed to, and that was practically confirmed when Tord lifted his right arm to his eyes and wiped them.
âTord, are you okay?â
âHi, Tom. Letâs go.â Tord blurted out, grabbing Tom by the hand without a second thought. He started to pull the other away from the house.
What???
Letting himself be dragged, Tom began to sweat. âWhat? What the fuck happened in there?â
âWhat did you do-?â Tom began, only to quickly be interrupted.
âTORD MARIE STEIN.â
Instinctively, Tom whipped around to be met with the sight of Tordâs father standing in the doorway. Blood trickled quickly under his nose, smeared above his lip. He lifted an arm and gave his face a firm wipe, staining his sleeve.
âThat!â Tord replied, matter-of-factly. âNow come on!â he urged, picking up his pace. Tom wasnât even sure what he could possibly say. Tord was acting like nothing happened, or like what happened was an everyday thing.
The run was silent, at least for a few minutes. The only sounds that passed between the two were heavy breaths and the thuds of their footsteps.
Tord stopped by a tree and promptly keeled over, his grasp slipping from Tomâs hand.
âTord?â Tom finally spoke up, the two exchanging deep exhales. Both were out of it, but Tord seemed worse off. He gripped his head again.
He didnât answer.
Tom put a hand on his shoulder. âTord.â
The Norwegian tipped his head in Tomâs direction, eventually lifting it to make eye contact with the boy.
He sniffled.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Tom didnât know what triggered it, but Tord was just about bawling, and it had happened so fast. Tord was leaning forward, palms around his knees, only to slowly drop into the grass like he physically couldnât hold himself up anymore.
Tom was sprawling to the ground right along with him in seconds, reacting so fast it was practically robotic.
He wrapped an arm around Tordâs upper back and pulled him close without much of a thought.
Tord just sat there. He didnât return the embrace, he didnât move, he didnât.. do anything.
âTord, I donât.. whatâs wrong?â Tom questioned.
Maybe that was dumb to ask.
At the same time, though, there were so many things that could be wrong, and.. Tord had never acted this way before. Tom wasnât sure if heâd seen Tord cry since primary school. This wasnât normal.
Tord lifted his head once more, squinting.
âThomas, it hurts.â
Tomâs heart sank.
âMy head. It hurts. He always goes there. I donât know why. But he did it again, and it hurt so much and I couldnât take it. I donât know how I even.. live.â
Tord rambled on.
âI never thought I could bring myself to hit back. Heâs always scared I will. I see it in his eyes sometimes. Like heâs waiting for me to lunge. He has no doubt that I am some sort of animal, waiting to be touched wrong.â
His breaths hitched, his palms digging into the grass.
Tom gave Tord a squeeze.
He was better at comforting people when they were drunk. They were incoherent. He could send them to sleep, and the next day theyâd just be sick. Not.. not this. This was different.
â..As if itâs something you have fun doing. Does he think you like living like that?â
Tord inhaled softly, but didnât speak.
âI donât think Iâve ever seen an animal antagonize a human being. Never ever. Itâs almost always the man yanking its tail, and then crying when he gets bit. Like the dog wasnât crying for him to stop before it even dared to nip.â
The lack of response made Tom feel unsure. This was new territory.
Had he been too serious? Too blunt? What was it?
He gulped softly.
âBut youâre not a dog.â
His grasp on Tord loosened just a little.
âYouâre a person. A person with feelings and thoughts and reasons to live. Feelings, thoughts and reasons that.. your father isnât ever going to care about. He doesnât care about you, Tord.. I think punching him just one time isnât even nearly enough to make up for that.â
There was silence between the two again.
Tom felt a squeeze.
Tord had finally hugged back, and it was rather tight.. as if Tom would run away the moment that Tord would let go. His head rested on Tomâs shoulder.
Oh. Oh, this was wrong.
What would his mother think?
Tom couldnât be damned to care about the feelings of Tordâs dad, but Tomâs mother?
â..Thank you.â
That snapped him out of it.
Tom stared down at Tordâs disheveled head of hair.
Without even thinking about it, Tom lifted a hand to fix it. He was careful, worried about contributing to the head pain that Tord had been so tormented with.
Tord tensed up.
No. No, no, no. Was that bad?
âMmm.â
âSorry. Sorry. Iâm sorry.â Tom blurted out, moving his hand away.
Tord shuffled a little. âWh-? No, it.. it just startled me. I donât really care.â
âAre you sure? I was just- I was trying to fix your hair and I donât.. have a brush or anything.â Tom explained.
âI donât mind.â
Tomâs heart might genuinely leap right out of his chest. Everything felt out of place.
â..Later, though. I want to show you now. The thing I mentioned before.â
Tord pulled away, and it was over. Tom blinked and the tears were practically gone, wiped away in the few moments that he was trying to get his soul firmly back into his body.
Tomâs friend grabbed onto the tree theyâd been sitting under, his hand jumping higher and higher until he was fully standing up.
Tom stood up as well, looking Tord up and down again. He wasnât sure if he could buy that Tord was at all okayâhow could he?
âDonât look at me like that.â Tord mumbled, glancing down.
âSorry.â
Tord resumed their walk, lifting a hand to usher Tom along. âItâs okay.â
Tom followed with not much hesitation.
âWhat are we.. going to look at?â
âWeâre actually pretty close, so just wait. Itâs on the outskirts of town. Nothing really built over there, easy for me to.. hang around. Nobodyâs looking.â Tord said.
He was being really vague. Tom couldnât figure out why.
Tord said to just wait.
Hopefully it wasnât some kind of trick.
Not that Tord really seemed that he would do something like that after what he just went through, but Tom could never be so sure.
Tom walked out of his home and took a few slow strides down his steps. He glanced around the street surrounding his house, then looked behind at his front door once more.
Mum wasnât looking out the window.
He spun around and took off, running away from his home as soon as it was confirmed that nobody had their eyes on him. He ran like he was playing tag. It was as if he was desperately searching for a place to conceal himself in a game of hide and seek.
This was his favorite part of these walks. Feeling the wind blow through his hair while he sprinted far away from that house was relieving. He ran and skipped like the world was falling apart below every footprint.
He nearly tripped over rocks, over his shoelaces, over his own feet out of pure adrenaline, but he kept racing through the streets of his little neighborhood. It was relieving. He could almost cry, or maybe that was just the wind blowing directly into his eyeballs.
He didnât even realise how far he was going. His legs were carrying him far before his brain could. He didnât realise how far he was down the street or how he was far off from the usual spot where he looped back to his house.
He stumbled forward, finally getting his comeuppance when his foot made contact with a rock. He goes tumbling over it like the bumbling idiot that he tended to be.
He nearly faceplanted, but managed to shield his face with his palms before he splattered onto the concrete, eyes whitening within a millisecond or two.
Shit..
He pulled his palms away reluctantly, vision hazy for just a moment. His knuckles stung and his face sort of achedâpainful, but it could have been worse. It was hopefully not enough to leave lasting marks. Mum never checked his hands. Maybe she just wouldnât notice. He was shocked he hadnât broken his nose. His hands saved him, for sure.
He placed his scraped palms against the sidewalk and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment. The pain in his knees was worse than the stinging in his hands, debatably. Rough jeans over legs that slammed into the pavement without warning.. that wasnât a good scenario, really.
He brushed himself off, then briefly paced around in a circle in an attempt to get his legs back in the swing of things.
Regaining his footing was easy, but processing what he saw next was not.
Just across the street, the Norwegian whoâd been causing him all of this distress to begin with was sitting outside of his home. His arms rested on his knees and his cheeks were in his palms. He looked out of it, brows furrowed.
Was Tord frustrated about him?
He seemed to have yet to notice the other, his dusty blue eyes fixed upon the aged, cracked sidewalk.
However, Tom killed his chance of just going home and acting like nothing happened. Before he knew it, he was teetering across the pavement towards his estranged friend.
Tord perked up, lifting his head from his roughed up fingers. He blinked a few times in disbelief and pulled himself to his feet, as if he were preparing to run away in terror, or maybe run towards Tom to scare him off.
However, he does neither, simply standing there with wide eyes.
âTass.. Tom?â Tord blurted out, correcting his mistake rather quickly. With how unexpected this whole interaction was, Tom didnât register the mistake.
He did catch onto the way that Tord held his head after standing up so fast, eyes rolling back for just a few moments. He bit his lip uncomfortably as he watched this happen, just for a moment.
Tom looked him up and down, hands hanging loosely at his sides. Tord quickly paced away from his front door, and Tom backed up on instinct. âWhat are you doing here?â
Notably, his tone is barely above a whisper, but heâs basically yelling at the same time.
âI.. I was going on a walk,â Tom haphazardly explained, arms hanging loosely at his sides. He clenched his fists. âI didnât realize where I was going.â
Tord stepped towards him, stopping when the two were about a foot or two apart. The worst that Tord could do is lunge at him, assuming he didnât have anything on him.. but nobody was watching, and that worried Tom.
Nobody was watching last time, either.
Tom cartoonishly gulped. âI didnât know this was your house.â He looked down towards the pavement, almost ashamed.
âIâve never told anybody where I lived,â Tord mumbled. âIt was supposed to be kept that way..â while he didnât sound exactly irritated by that fact, Tom still couldnât help but wonder what he was trying to imply.
Either way, he didnât know how to react, causing him to stare in silence.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily (Tom honestly couldnât decide), Tord filled the void with a suggestion. The other sort of wrapped his arm around Tom, but not exactly. It was more like just hovering it over his waist.
Tom kind of inched away. Tord didnât complain, though.
âLetâs go on a walk.â He said. He didnât sound like he was trying to be threatening, but he was ushering Tom away from the house before the brunet could give a response.
Tord cleared his throat after the two were both a fair bit away from the house. He spoke before he can really think of anything to start a conversation, though.
Tom swore he could hear the other mumbling something, but he didnât quite catch it and his stomach churned at the idea of asking.
âHow have you been?â Tord started. Heâs talking at a normal volume now, but he kept glancing around in a manner that Tom interpreted as anxiety.
Was he fuckinâ serious..?
âWe havenât been.. eh, chatting.. aside from.. today at lunch. Youâve been admiring my beauty.â Tord said.
That was probably a joke, like everything Tord spat, but it wasnât really funny.
Tord read his mind.
âThat wasnât funny, was it?â He asked, lips curling into a rather embarrassed grin.
Tom shook his head, straight-faced.
âJust.. Ignore that, then.â Tord bit his lip for a second and Tom nodded. He hesitated, then opted to answer Tordâs other questionâthe non-joking one.
âAs fine as someone can be when they almost die.â He said, shoving his hands into his pockets. It wasnât really meant to be sarcastic, but it probably came off that way.
Tordâs response to those words was a humâa little âmmmâ, as if heâs uncomfortable.
He started to speak again, sliding his arm away from Tom. âI would like to apologize for the whole, eh..â
Oh?
Tord waved his hand around, searching for the words. âGun situation, but, um..â he clasped his scarred palms together, averting his gaze like he was about to deliver unfortunate news.
âI donât think I can.â He admitted.
Reasonably so, Tomâs reaction is pretty snappy. âWhat the fuck?â
Tord seemed to expect it, and he actually looked rather pained by it. âNot- not because I feel bad for scaring you guys, but I.. I donât know how to explain yet, but give me this chance. Please.â
He sounded urgent.
Tom looked down at the cement beneath the two, pouting. Could Tord at least hurry up?
Tord didnât exactly give him the opening for a QnA, but Tom started openly pondering anyhow.
âWhy did you bring the gun?â He questioned, kicking a rock as the words passed his lips. âBetter yet, why didnât you at least tell us you had it?â
The knot in his stomach wasnât helped by Tordâs expression.
âWell, I.. never planned on using it. If I had wanted to show off or something, I would have told you guys I had it.â The other finally began to explain. âI was just.. I had it because.. ugh. I donât know how to..â he gripped his forehead for a moment, seemingly experiencing a sort of brainfog.
âI just wanted to see if I.. could have it. And not get caught. Thatâs why I didnât have plans to use it to begin with. Like I said, itâs not mine. Itâs my fatherâs. If he found out I used it, I..â
He paused, eyelids fluttering awkwardly for a couple of seconds.
Tomâs stomach churned.
âLook, I just. I was never going to hurt any of you. I promise that. I know I- I know I do and say a lot of foolish shit, but I never have wanted to hurt you. Not you, not Edd, not Matt. Not a single one of you three.â
Tord was swearing up and down these ideas, and he seemed dead serious. Heâd never sounded so serious in the entire time that Tom had known the Norwegian. Tom felt like he was seeing something he was never supposed to.
âWhy was the gun.. why was it loaded?â Tom questioned, his general demeanor softening.
âThat wasnât me.â Tord immediately said, voice rather high-pitched and somehow so heavy all at once. âThat was my father. I didnât know it was loaded until later. I was walking to Eddâs, and Iâd already wasted a lot of time with something else. I didnât have time to unload it and even if I had, it could have gotten me caught.â
As Tom listened to the explanation, he felt his guts twisting in him. He felt vile. Nothing even particularly bad had been said, he just felt.. off. Full of dread.
âHe left it loaded? Isnât that.. illegal or something?â He questioned.
Tord visibly frowned. âI thought so, too.â
âIâm just.. lucky it was loaded. I donât know what wouldâve happened if it wasnât. But I canât give the gun back now.. I had planned on bringing it, coming home and putting it back like nothing happened. So much for not getting caught, huh?â
He smiled for just a moment, but the grin wasnât exactly full of joy. Not at all.
âWhy?â Tom blurted out, suddenly. âWhy did you- do that? Take it to begin with? I mean- I know you said you were just trying to see if you could, but.. what led to that?â
Tord suddenly looked like he was sinking in on himself. His expression was unreadable. Full of dread, just as Tom had been before. As if heâd been caught doing something embarrassing, but multiplied by a hundred.
His eyelids were doing the thing again.
âI.. was mad at my dad.â
He looked fucking terrified.
âLike, really mad.â
Tom blinked.
Tord didnât really.. get mad. He was usually the one making people mad.
Um?
âIâm.. sorry.â
The words came tumbling out almost unexpectedly. Tom didnât even realize heâd said them until Tord, who looked awfully perplexed after being shaken from the dread, responded.
He shook his head quickly. âWhat? You donât need to apologize, I played a shitty game and it won me a shitty prize. Thatâs on me, isnât it? It doesnât.. matter why I did it, I still really freaked you guys out.â
Tom reacted to the words with a frown. He supposed that, in some way, Tord was right. He did all of that stuff, but Tom didnât know the reasoning behind it before, and Tord had been actively freaking out when initially questioned on the subject. It wasnât malicious, just.. really idiotic.
âIâm not sorry for how I reacted,â Tom clarified. He crossed his arms for a moment, then let his hands return to his pockets. âIâm sorry for.. not acknowledging that you saved me. I donât think I even thanked you..â
This felt weird. Heâd never been so vulnerable in his whole life. Not with his mother (not by choice, anyway), not with Edd or Matt, and certainly not with Tord.
Maybe it was reasonable to avoid those conversations with someone whoâd keep him locked up forever if she knew what her child got up to in his spare time, but Edd and Matt were supposed to be his friends. Tord was, too. Tom thought so, anyway.
Still walking, the two sort of just stared at each other. Tom seemed to be waiting for Tord, and Tord didnât really appear like he knew what he was doing.
â..So, thank you,â Tom finally added. âFor saving me. And Iâm sorry for not really listening to you.â
âIâm pretty sure that Edd and Matt were also more focused on me carrying a gun than saving your life,â Tord replied, seemingly beginning to relax again. âSo I donât blame you. You donât need to be sorry, but.. if youâre going to apologize, I guess Iâm going to forgive you. If it helps you feel any better.â
Tom seriously wasnât sure about this, and he didnât feel that Tord was, either.
Tordâs never really.. lied, though. Not explicitly, as far as Tom could remember. It was usually just avoiding the answer to certain concerns, rather than twisting a narrative deliberately.
âItâs probably messed up that I canât say it back. âSorryâ, I mean.â Tord let out a sigh, his hands slipping into his pockets.
Tom glanced at the other for a moment, then at the ground, then at Tord once more. âWell, I forgive you anyways.â
Tordâs reaction is immediate, and not really favorable.
âIkke gjør det. Donât,â Donât do it. The teen shook his head urgently. âNot until I can apologize. Please.â
While Tom couldnât understand or even begin to guess what Tordâs first couple of words were, the amount of desperation in his tone said enough.
Tomâs stomach felt like it was sinking in on itself. He felt hot, he felt wrong, he felt full of dread. Why did Tord sound so scared?
âI havenât been this worried in awhile,â Tord admitted, as if heâd been able to read Tomâs mind. âItâs, ehh.. jarring.â
âBecause of this talk?â Tom raised a brow.
âA mix of things,â Tord replied, shrugging. âI donât want to go home and I hadnât been expecting to see you again today. I thought youâd run away, but you.. came right up to me, basically.â
âYou worry more than I expect you to,â Tom blurted out. He paused afterwards, then his eyes widened. âNotâ Not like.. Sorry.â He averted his gaze towards the sidewalk.
He just wasnât used to it. Tord had been causing him to worry for.. at least a week, it didnât really occur to him that maybe Tord was worrying too.
Tord, at least not openly, didnât acknowledge Tomâs verbal missteps.
âIt may just be today in particular. As of recently, Iâve been.. less worried. The past couple of weeks, I suppose.â
Huh.
âBut- I think itâs coming back, because Iâm realizing things about myself that arenât very good. Things that make me feel, eh.. how would you put it..â
Tord removed a hand from his pocket, waving it around a bit. âRotten.â
Oh. Ohhhh.
âAnd, by extension.. worthless? I donât think someone cooking would want their products to be, eh- spoiled.â
While wrapping his head around this was hard, just the way that Tord was phrasing it all.. what was he even supposed to feel about this?
Not just that, but Tord was being so uncharacteristically open about his feelings.
âI donât think youâre spoiled,â Tom murmured. âOr rotten.â
Tom watched as Tord nervously wrung his hands, the same hands that pulled him from the cave.
He didnât really like remembering that. It made his head hurt, actually.
âI feel like I am, because- I canât apologize. Itâs, eh.. I canât.. hm.â He let out a sigh, grasping his head. âUgh. I canât explain it. But I do feel bad for scaring you guys. But I canât.. say sorry. Even if I really want to. Which is why I canât accept your forgiveness, even if I want to.â
Tom didnât even know what to say. He didnât have time to think about it, because Tord kept talking.
â..And I think I want to kill my father.â
What.
What the fuck did he just say?
He was joking. Tord was just joking. That was what he did. He said funny stuff, mean stuff, he likes explosive reactions. Thatâs all this was. He was just the class clown.
This couldnât mean anything, right?
Tomâs stomach churned. He was still facing Tord, but he wasnât looking at him. He was looking past him.
..No, it meant something.
What the fuck, man?
Tord had picked up on Tomâs disturbance rather quickly, though itâs not like it was difficult to. He wasnât talking anymore, and the look on his face was a grimace.
âI- ugh. I know what youâre thinking. Iâm not just.. Iâm not just mad at him. I donât just hate him, heâs.. This isnât like he grounded me for not.. asking to go out or something.â
Tom ignored the slightly obvious shade at his mother, too desperate for an explanation to shift the subject.
âThen what did he do?â He questioned, almost offended by words not directed towards him at all.
Tord had that look on his face again. Like he wasnât present, and all too there at the same time. The thought of explaining whatever was going on seemed to physically pain him.
Seemingly giving up on putting it into words, Tord sighed.
Averting his gaze, he tilted his head back and raised a hand to brush his hair off of his shoulders.
Tom looked Tord up and down until he noticed it.
On both sides of Tordâs throat, visibly bruises painted the boyâs skin. They werenât immediately noticeable, seemingly almost healed, but all Tom had to do was squint and it was like they were jumping out at him.
No. No.
No.
Tomâs breath hitched and Tord lowered his head, the two seeming to come to an understanding.
Tom wanted to cry.
â..Heâs the only reason Iâm out here,â Tord finally said, raising a hand to rub the back of his hand on his forehead. âIâd been sitting out there for a while. It felt like hours. Probably only a little less than one. He locked me out.â
âIs he..â Tom started, paused, then continued, rephrasing what he was about to say. âHeâs the reason you wanted to walk. So he wouldnât see me..â
âYes.â Tord mumbled. âI was already in trouble, and.. Iâm not supposed to have friends around. Even if I was, I donât want him around you, or anyone, for that matter.â
Tom wanted to ask what Tord was in trouble for, but if these were the punishments being regularly dished out to Tord, whatever he did might as well have not mattered at all.
Somehow, again, Tord seemed to guess what was going through Tomâs head.
âI think he knows I have the gun, but he wants to scare me into just.. telling him. So now, even more than usual, heâs getting mad at me for things that arenât my fault.â
Tom felt heavy.
âIt was coffee this time. The grown man couldnât clean up after himself and called me to do it. I said I didnât want toâit wasnât my mess, you know? So he dragged me outside.â
The way Tord was explaining it made Tom nauseous. Was this just his routine? Was this normal to him?
âYou canât be fucking serious.â
He said it a little too quickly, but he was just so utterly appalled.
âI am serious. Dead serious,â Tord said. âHe does things like this all the time, at least when he even remembers I exist. Can you believe that he used to be worse?â
So it was. He was acting like he was discussing the weather.
Tom shuffled uncomfortably as he walked, lifting his hands to crack his knuckles. Tord keeps talking.
â..Thatâs fucked.â He mumbled.
âI still have one bullet.â
It was silent for a moment, aside from the popping of Tomâs fingers. Tom seemed to be registering the implications of Tord sharing that information.
â..Haha. Like I could use it. Thatâd ruin my life.â
Tom didnât want to hear about it anymore. He couldnât.. place himself in Tordâs shoes, even if he really tried. His mother was never like that, and he couldnât remember his dad enough anymore to make any judgments.
âHe used to be worse?â
Perfect, very subtle subject change. Not really. He was just trying to get Tord to stop talking about killing people, because it was making him seriously reconsider the whole cave thing.
âThe, uh.. hm. My throat. That was something he hadnât done in awhile. He used to do it regularly, and it was.. easier, then.â Tord mumbled.
Tomâs palms were sweating.
âItâs not often anymore that he hits me, but I think itâs only because Iâm old enough to fight back.â
How fucking terrible could someone be to only stop hurting someone if they know theyâll recieve the consequences for it?
â..I can try to, anyway. It didnât work.â
Tom found himself blurting things out again, things that, while true, he didnât necessarily mean to openly say.
âYour father is fucking vile.â
Tord smiled for just a second, but the grin fell quickly. Tom didnât understand what there was to be smiling about.
âYou could say that again, Tom-Tom. But, I.. eh. Iâve never told anyone about this before. I donât- I donât want you to tell anyone.â He mumbled, any weight that had been lost due to Tordâs mannerisms quickly returning to the conversation.
âNot just adults, but Edd or Matt. They might try to do something, and Matt.. canât keep a secret, really.â
Tom was already agreeing. âI- Wonât tell anyone.â
He wouldnât, but he really, really wanted to.
âDo you want to do anything?â Tord muttered. âI- donât exactly want to go home, and you were out anyway.â
Tom didnât want to go home. He might get lectured for being out for so long, but.. what would happen when Tord goes home?
He likes walking more, anyway.
âWe can keep walking.â
Tord didnât react much, which was fair. âOkay.â
He dug through the pockets of his coat as he walked, searching for something. Tom stared in confusion until the other pulled out some cash.
âDo you want something to snack on? There.. should be a shop nearby.â He asked, holding out the cash heâd fished out of his coat.
All Tom had to eat so far today was that bag of crisps at lunch, so he isnât exactly at his best. He would have eaten more, if not for certain things stressing him out.
âYes, Iâm hungry.â He nodded. He didnât really plan on getting much, but he wasnât sure if he could keep walking around on a practically empty stomachâhe would be having dinner as soon as he got home.
He sort of realized something once he considered that information, and now he was having trouble looking at Tord again.
âMe too.â Tord replied, looking around. It seemed that heâs just trying to gauge where exactly he and Tom were, considering that neither of them had been paying much attention to their surroundings during their chat.
âActually, I think weâre very close to it. I donât go when itâs late.. so thatâs good. I donât want to be offered any drugs.â Tord chuckled.
Drugs were a weird, foreign concept to Tom. Alcohol.. sort of, but drinking seemed a lot more common than something like hard crack, or whatever sort of substances his mother would worriedly ramble on and on about.
Regardless, he tried to shove away how unfamiliar it was with a joke.
âMaybe I should come down here more often, if thatâs really a concern.â He snickered back. He took a glance around, noting how everything looked. Maybe he would come this far from home more frequently, actually.
Not for drugs. Just because it was something different.
Before long, the two arrived at the convenience shop and Tord held the door open for Tom. âBowling balls first, hm?â
Tom still hated that nickname, but whatever. He walked in. âThanks, fork.â He rolled his eyes, taking in a soft breath as he glanced around the inside of the shop.
Tord didnât react to it at all, aside from cocking a brow. Tom didnât notice, and he probably wouldnât have mentioned it if he had.
âI have.. 10 pounds,â Tord said. âSo we can probably both get something small. I donât want to spend all of it.â
Tom sighed in relief. âGood, because I have..â he paused for the sake of dramatic effect.. âNo money!â He held his hands up, mimicking the classic âjazz handsâ with a feigned grin.
Tord lifted a hand and poked Tomâs cheek. âGo pick something out. Iâm going to get some crisps.â
Tomâs face scrunches up when Tord pokes him, his eyes screwing shut. He pouted once Tord moved his hand away. He wasnât really used to anyone besides his mother touching his face, and it was sudden.
Utterly embarrassed at whatever face heâd just made, he spun around and darted to the cold section of the shop. He just barely caught the sound of Tord snickering from afar.
He grabbed one of those premade sandwich things out of a fridge, tapping the plastic packaging with his nails momentarily. He was.. admittedly a little privileged. Convenience shop food wasnât something he often had to settle on, even if it wasnât particularly unpleasant or anything. He circled back to the front of the store and Tord had already returned, bag of Snaps in his grasp.
Tom awkwardly handed him his sandwich and Tord ambled over to the checkout, handing both items to the young blond boy who was working the register.
It took only a few moments for Tord to pay, turning around with the items in hand. He didnât bother getting the snacks bagged. That was fine, Tom didnât want to hang around here for too long, and a bag wasnât needed for only two small things.
Tord walked out and again held the door open for Tom, who followed him with a mutter of appreciation.
âShould we walk and eat or go sit down at that bench over there?â Tord pointed at the bench in question with the same hand he was holding his snack bag with.
Tom was already pacing over to the bench. âI donât want my sandwich to go flying into the pavement if I walk the wrong way. Letâs sit.â He planted himself down.
Tord followed, sitting right next to him. âThis is good news for Edd, isnât it?â
Already tearing open the wrapper of his sandwich, Tom turned to look at Tord. He raised a brow with a puzzled expression.
âWeâre getting along, I mean.. and now itâs been made clear that Iâm not going to kill anybody.â Tord explained.
Tomâs confused glaring dissipates and he nodded. Tord just sort of stared at him for a moment, then the teen finally gave a verbal response.
âIâm sure heâll be joyous to know that you donât want to off any of us. Plus, he definitely paired us up that day on purpose. You know how he is.â Tom replied, then he looked at his untouched sandwich.
âOh, for sure,â Tord hummed. âIâm a jerk to you and heâs sick of it. To be fair.. You also are, right?â
Tom nodded.
âI kept calling your mum a wad.â Tord snickered. âThat reminds me, you look funny when youâre angry.â
âYou know, I was going to offer half of this to you, until you mentioned that.â Tom muttered in retaliation, pointing at the sandwich that sat atop its previous plastic prison.
Tordâs expression softened.
Oh.
Tom felt his stomach drop a little.
â..I still can offer you a half.â He murmured, glancing away in shame.
âWh-? You donât have to,â Tord stammered.
Tom didnât immediately give a verbal reply, instead adjusting for a second and then just holding up the whole sandwich.
Tord blinked, looked at Tom, then back at the sandwich. âUm..?â
âYou paid for it. It wouldnât be fair for me to rub it in your face when all you got was crisps..â The other said, tone lowering.
âYouâre certain?â The Norwegian asked, pursing his lips for the moments that he wasnât actively speaking.
Tom nodded.
â..Thank you.â Tord smiled.
Tom beamed in return.
..Until Tord leaned forward and took a bite out of the sandwich as if he were an animal being fed.
âWh-â Tomâs eyes whitened for a moment, and he carefully placed the sandwich back on the plastic. âYou could have used your hands.â
Tord just laughed. âI was looking to see your reaction.â
Tom paused, then lifted the plastic and set it on Tordâs lap. âYou can have the whole thing, actually. My mum said sheâs cooking tonight.â
âHuh?â Tord blinked, staring at the sandwich that now sat on his lap.
âItâs yours. You paid for it, you bit it, and now you can.. save that for later, or something.â Tom motioned towards the bag of Snaps.
Tordâs single expression caused this.
To Tomâs relief, Tord accepted the offer, slid the unopened snacks into his pocket, and finished the sandwich that had been graciously offered to him.
Once he was done, he looked back at Tom.
âWhere to next? Do you have to go home?â
Fuuuuuuccckkk.
Tom sputtered at the question before giving a displeased nod. âYeah, I didnât mean to come this far off my street to begin with.. Mumâs probably worried.â
There was something in Tordâs face that Tom couldnât really understand. A glare in his eyes. He could almost identify it as something unpleasantâperhaps boredom? It was quite difficult to put a name to the feeling, but it probably wasnât something good.
Tord shrugged after another moment of silence in the air. âItâs alright. I didnât have any good ideas of where weâd go next, anyways.â
âWhat were your ideas?â Tom asked.
âThat cave. I was interested in getting a better look at that thing that chased us. You know.â
Tom.. didnât know. Not as much as he probably should have, anyway. He nervously chuckled at the statement. âThatâs probably a bad idea.â
He started to try to dig into his brain so they could actually have a proper discussion about this, but everything he could recall is weird. Distant. He knew what had happened, but the details were shredded.
Tord didnât seem to pick up on it.
âItâs a bad idea right now, yes. Maybe Iâll take a solo trip there if curiosity eats at me enough.â
Didnât curiosity kill the cat?
Tom sighed. âI still wouldnât.â
âBut what if itâs not actually dead?â Tord stood up, grabbing the plastic wrapping from the sandwich. He hobbled over to the trash and tossed it away. âIt died too.. easily, I think.â
Tom didnât particularly like when Tord spoke that way. It felt too nonchalant about something definitely not normal, even for somebody like Tord. It made his stomach ache.
âIâm hoping itâs dead. I saw its brain,â Tord paused, seeming to recall the event as he spoke. âIf itâs still kicking, Iâll do what I have to.â
As much as his chest panged, urging him to question such a statement, Tom decided against it. He doesnât need to know what Tord is thinking. Frankly, heâd heard enough already and he was grossed out.
âI donât remember seeing its brain.â Tom muttered. âI donât remember much at all, actually. Probably for the best..â
âIt was gross,â Tord replied, nodding in agreement. âI think Iâll go check in on it if Iâm let inside. Sometimes my father just.. forgets Iâm out there.â
Tom wasnât exactly shocked, given Tordâs earlier confessions. However, that didnât make it any less disturbing.
At least Tord wasnât talking about brains anymore, but this wasnât much better.
âYep,â the other nodded. âHeâs just dumb. I bet I wouldnât see his brain if I shot him.â
Actually, it was probably worse.
That sounded a lot more lighthearted than Tordâs other violent comments, despite it. He didnât want to take such funny phrasing so seriously, but the context made it hard.
âI want to punch him and see what happens.â Tord mumbled.
That one probably wasnât a joke.
âI think thatâs a bad idea.â Tom frowned. âWhat if he kicks you out?â
Maybe thatâd be better than living with the evil fool.
Tord rolls his eyes. âI could always ask one of you guys to let me crash on your sofa for a while. Plus, Iâm pretty sure I could get him arrested for child abandonment.â
Tomâs stomach sunk. None of this sounded good. âI donât know. I would just try to hold out until youâre an adult.â
âThree more years of being locked outside routinely,â Tord sighed. âIâll try. Letâs hope I donât shoot him before then.â
That sounded like sarcasm. Tom hoped it was.
âLetâs hope I get to sleep in a bed,â Tord added. âHe might not let me back in tonight.â
Tom halted his walking and placed a hand on Tordâs shoulder, not quite catching the other flinching at his grasp. âListen, mate,â he sighed.
âIf youâre worried you wonât be let back in, I can.. try to arrange something. Iâm sure if I told my mum whatâs going on, sheâd let you stay over.. at least for tonight.â
That was probably only a half-truth. Tord was a boy, and the chance of Bailey letting a boy stay over was slim. The circumstances had to be really specific, and probably urgent. At least, that was what Tom figured.
Tord took a breather for a moment, then shrugged. âWouldnât she phone the police if you told her what was going on?â
âDo you think I donât know how to fib?â Tom lowered his hand from Tordâs shoulder, crossing his arms in disbelief. Tordâs expression told him all he needs to know.
âEh.. well. No,â Tord shook his head. âNot to her. Wouldnât mother dearest want to know everything?â He pulled the slightest smirk, obviously just taunting the other.
Tom scowled at the comment. âI have my ways! Let me find a payphone and Iâll see what she thinks.â
Being so considerate of Tord felt weird.
***
It took some time, but the two ended up at a payphone and Tord graciously lended Tom the very last of his cash. Tom seriously didnât know how he felt about accepting the offer, but Tord insisted.
He wished he could just openly use his regular cellphone.
He dialed his motherâs cell number into the phone, biting his lip as the sound of ringing filled his ears.
Pick up, pick up.
âHello?â
The puzzled greeting was followed by the sound of Bailey clearing her throat. Tom gulps softly. âMum,â his eyes were locked on Tord as he spoke. âHi.â
âTassy!â His mother sounded much more interested now, certainly less tired. âAre you alright?â
Tom sighed. âIâm okay, I just wanted to ask you something.â
âAnything for you. What is it?â The woman hums. Tom recoiled at the sound of her breathing through the speaker, and the âanything for youâ statement made him visibly shiver. Tord patted him on the shoulder, despite being unable to hear the exchange in its entirety.
Tom fidgeted with the handle of the phone, leaning against the wall of the booth. âA friend. Heâs, ehhh.. He needs a place to crash, j-just for tonight. His folks wonât let him inside, I guess they thought he was home safe already. Theyâve all gone to bed.â He explained.
Tord seemed strangely interested. Is it really so difficult to believe that Tom could lie to his mother? Everyone did what they had to, when the time came.
â..How old is this friend? Who is this friend?â
Tomâs trembling started. He was shocked it hadnât already, given what he was asking.
âEh, uh.â He bit his lip again, looking to Tord for answers.
âHow old are you?â He mouthed. He started slowly holding up all five fingers, one by one. He hoped Tord understands what he meant.
Tord held up both hands. One finger was presented on the left, all five on the right.
âO-oh,â Tom stammered. âHeâs fifteen.â he said, shoulders relaxing. He was met with silence on the other end of the line. âItâs Tord.â He added.
Tord was no stranger to Bailey, she knew who Tom hung around. Tom had a feeling she would have preferred Edd or Mattâs presence, however.
âYou donât plan on keeping this boy in your room all evening, do you?â
âNo! No.. I mean. No. He would sleep on the sofa, mum,â The boy squeezed the phone for just a moment. âDo you mind picking us up? Thank you.â
âI will.. allow it, because you said he doesnât really have any other choice. Where are you?â
âEhâ By Edaâs Corner Shop. Youâll see us.â
âStay put. Love you, bye.â
âLove you, mum.â
Tom let out a sigh of relief as the call ended, the sound of ringing filling his ears again. He hung the phone back up in the booth and slid onto the ground.
âNo way.â Tord broke the silence, mood indecipherable.
Tom glanced up at him before standing back up. âWhat?â
âYou just lied to your mum.â
âOnly about why you need to stay over! Everything else was true!â Tom crossed his arms, examining Tordâs smug expression.
Tord laughed. âStill a lie! I didnât know you could do that.â
âItâs really not crazy, mate. I lie to her about things all the time. She has no clue what happened last week.â Tom shrugged as he began to pace back and forth in a straight line, awaiting his motherâs arrival.
âShe doesnât know?â Tordâs eyes were wide.
Tom stopped pacing. âDo you think sheâd let me leave the house if I told her an otherworldly monster in a cave tried to eat me?â
ââŚNnnnno.â
âThought so!â
***
Soon enough, a silver Vauxhall Corsa pulled up where Tom and Tord stood. Tom wobbled up to the window of the passengerâs side and the window was rolled down. âHi, mum.â
Bailey glanced between the two teens, grinning warmly. âHi. Sit in the front with me.â
Tom nodded. He opened the back door of the car for Tord before hopping in the front with his mother, buckling up before she had the chance to say much else.
âTord, right?â Bailey turned around to look at the other teen as Tom was buckling up. He adjusted the seatbelt in silence.
Tom observed Tordâs movements in the rearview mirror, watching as he sank ever so slightly into the safety of his trench coat.
âYes, maâam.â The Norwegian smiled. âThatâs me.â
He seemed strangely polite, suddenly. Too polite, like he was pushing himself way too hard.
Bailey didnât seem to notice the healing gash on Tordâs forehead, or she was simply being too polite to point it out. âHow are you? Are you alright?â
Tord didnât skip a beat. âIâm okay, thank you. How are you?â
âJust fine, thank you.â Bailey leaned forward and patted Tord on his head. Tord didnât protest and Tom warmed up with shame. She wasnât usually touchy with his friends at all.
Once Tord had buckled up, Bailey turned back around and started to drive the three of them back home.
Tom was shaking where he sat. He scratched at the threads of his seatbelt.
Tord laid in silence. It was strange. Very strange. Not even in class was he so quiet.
âSo, Tord,â Bailey started, eyes locked on the road in front of her. âWe should lay down some ground rules for tonight.â
Tom listened to the sound of Tordâs shuffling in his seat.
âYes, maâam.â Tord replied. His awkward silence returned quickly.
Bailey cleared her throat. âYou two need to keep Tassaâs door open, as long as youâre in there together. Iâm sure that you understand why.â
If Tom could audibly whimper in despair without being questioned, he would have.
âYes- Yes, I understand.â Tord murmured. Tom barely resisted the urge to turn around and see the look on his face.
âTeens can get up to.. stupid things. Itâs just to be safe. Not that I donât trust Tassâ friends, but we can never be too sure, right?â Bailey forced a laugh as the car turns down a street.
âRight.â Tord replied flatly.
Tomâs mother hummed. âNext off, this one should be obviousâyouâll be sleeping on the sofa. We have a blanket and pillow that you can borrow, donât worry.â
Tord clasped his hands together. âOkay. Thanks.â
âHmm,â Bailey paused to think. âConsidering it is a Friday, Iâm okay with you two being up a bit later than you usually would. Just be responsible. Please try to keep quiet, I work pretty early.â
âI understand, eh.. maâam.â
Okay, the good manners were becoming eerie.
He felt awkward sitting here in this confined space with his mother and Tord at the same time. Luckily, the drive from where they were picked up from to Tomâs house was quite short. They could have walked, if not for how dark it was getting.
The next three minutes were filled with silence and small talk. It was quite strange.
Bailey pulled the car into the driveway of the Reyes household, sitting there for a moment before turning the car off and unlatching her seatbelt.
Tom and Tord unbuckled at the same time and the brunet quickly hopped out of the car to free Tord from the national enemy of all mankindâchild safety locks.
Tord stepped out of the car and stared up at Tomâs house, the two boys then watching as Bailey stepped up the veranda and unlocked the front door. Their gazes averted towards each other.
â..Donât make fun of my house or Iâll gut you.â Tom muttered.
There wasnât really anything in or about his house to make fun of to begin with, but he knew how Tord tended to be. Heâd make fun of Tom for anything.
Tord feigned sadness. âFine, fine.â
Bailey held the door open for her son and his friend, allowing the two to enter. They both thanked her, Tord a bit more eagerly than Tom.
Tom wasnât sure if thatâs normal for friends to do around parents. Heâs never really properly had a friend over.
Edd had met Tomâs mumâhe was pretty polite, maybe even more than Tord, but Edd always put on a completely different face around adults. Tom knew that. After what Tom has learned of Tordâs father, this just seemed weird.
Was Tord.. scared? Of adults?
Tomâs stomach twisted a little.
Tom was just going to have to mention it another time. He certainly couldnât with his mother hovering over his shoulder.
The sound of the door locking stirred the brunet away from his thoughts. He locked his dark eyes on the dinner table.
In the middle of the dining table sat three empty dishes, forks sitting alongside each one. Weirdly formal for this household, but Tom didnât mind.
He glanced over at Tord when he heard the boy murmuring.
He looked completely enamoured, as if heâd never seen such a thing in his whole life.
âI hope this is nice,â Bailey started, pacing over to the table. âWe donât usually have guests over. Not on such short notice..â
She sounded nervous, but not in the way that Tom was used to. Genuinely anxious for approval, rather than concerned for her sonâs safety. It was different. Welcome, perhaps.
âItâs perfect.â Tord blurted out. Tom pursed his lips at such a statement.
âWell, thank you, sweetheart.â Bailey smiled down at her guest. âIâll fix you a plate. You two go wash your hands.â
Both boys stood shyly for a moment before Tom wandered off to the toilet, expecting Tord to follow. Tomâs expectations were met when he hears Tordâs careless stomping behind him.
He opened the door and allowed Tord in, leaving the door fully open. It wasnât like either of them needed privacy just to wash their hands.
Tom rolled his sleeves up and turned the knob for warm water, wetting his hands and pumping just a little bit of hand soap into his palm.
As he rinsed his hands, he listened to the strangely loud sound of Tord snooping through the room behind him. He turned off the sink, shook his hands and then reached for the towel hung up behind him.
Not even bothering to look at Tord, he stepped out of the way. âWhat are you doing?â
He could sense the horned boy staring at him.
â..Looking.. at.. your soaps.â
Tom blinked and finally returned the eye contact. âYouâre weird.â
âYou have so many.â Tord muttered.
âMum likes to stock up.. so she doesnât have to make trips to the shop too often. Sheâs usually working..â Tom explained.
Tord didnât respond. It was unclear if he just didnât know what to say or if he was too focused on washing his hands.
Quickly enough, the two teens returned to the dining table and there were two freshly prepared servings where the empty plates once sat. Tom pulled out a chair, offering Tord a seat. Tord accepted the offer with a nod.
Tom gave the same offer to his mother shortly after, whoâd just finished preparing her own meal. She always made hers last. Tom always appreciated her selflessness. She could be truly kind when she wasnât overthinking everything.
Tord had that enamoured look on his face again. Tom didnât get it. It was just food.
The reason why was staring him dead in the face, and heâd practically acknowledged it before, but it wasnât clicking this time.
Once the three are all sat, Tord looked a bit lost. The older of the three noticed.
âAre you alright?â She questioned.
Tord looked from the food to Bailey to Tom. âYeah. Just, uhh.. waiting.â
âFor?â Bailey asked, cocking a brow.
The Norwegian blinked. âUhhh.. permission.â
Bailey and Tom shared a concerned stare, one which Tord probably could have picked up on, but Tom wasn't sure. Only Tom really got why that was so worrisome though, even if Bailey wasn't exactly clueless.
âYou can eat..â The woman murmured, obviously trying to mask her concern. Honestly, that was kind of out of character for her.
Tord pursed his lips. âOhhh.. oh. Okay. Sorry. Thank you.â
This was so fucking strange.
This felt incorrect. Where did the real Tord go?
Like many other times, he wasnât given much longer to ponder on it, because the sound of munching filled his ears, as Tord had quickly started chowing down on his meal. It was almost animalistic, like he hadn't had a full meal in awhile.
Tom wondered if that may actually be the case as he picked up a forkful of his own supper.
Dinner passed fast. Tord continued his odd behavior, but Tom slowly accepted that he just put on this face in front of adults. At least in front of Tomâs mother, anyway.
Tom still wasnât adjusted to the compliments that Tord would spew after every bite, or the way that Bailey would smile about it until it looked like her face hurt.
Tord wiped his face with a napkin, staring at his now-empty platter before simply putting the paper towel down in it. Tom and Bailey ate slower and still managed to finish their food before him, which really shouldnât make sense, but it was useless to point out.
âI can get these.â Bailey offered. Tord smiled at her as she stood up and Tom immediately opted to help her with organizing the mess of dishes, moving all of the forks and assisting her in stacking them all up.
His mother stared at him with a soft expression, a silent âthanksâ, before saying something that definitely soured Tomâs mood a little.
âYou should be a waitress,â she said, pulling a gentle smirk. Tom couldnât tell if it was meant to be a joke or a compliment, but he just had to accept it.
âMaybe I should.â
Tord was awfully quiet, and by the time Tom looked back over at him, he was standing up with his arms at his sides.
âWhat?â Tom questioned, ignoring his motherâs quiet steps as she walked off to the sink to rinse dishes.
Tord didnât register Tomâs addressment of him for several moments before he finally responds.
âOh, eh, just thinking.â He murmured. Tom was confused.
âAbout?â The brunet crossed his arms over his chest.
Tord glanced around the room for a moment before letting his gaze settle back onto the boy in front of him. âThis is nice. Nicer than home, for sure.â
Tom frowned. âSorry.â
âWhy?â Tord raised a brow.
âAbout him.â He mumbled.
The other shrugged. âUsed to it.â
At that moment, Tomâs well-intentioned self got an idea. It was small, but it felt meaningful to him. He strolled over to his dear old mum and nudged her with the back of his hand.
âHey.â
She was rinsing her own dish off as she turned to look at him. âHey. What is it?â
âTord and I are going to watch a film in my room, is that okay?â
Bailey paused to think and Tom desperately hoped that she said yes. Her expression wasnât something simple for him to read. He had nothing to hypothesize.
â..Keep the door open.â She reminded, relenting at the sight of her sonâs desperate face.
Tom was quick to pace over to Tord, grab his sleeve and drag him off towards the stairs. âWhat do you want to watch?â
âIâ huh?â Tord didnât protest being dragged off, which was just a convenience to Tom.
âWe are going to watch a movie. What do you want to watch with me?â The brunetâs tone was stern for a moment, trying to make his intentions clear.
Tord sputtered as the other teen dragged him up the stairs. Did he not know what a movie was?
No, thatâd be silly.
âIâ Donât know. What do you have?â Tord questioned. Tom felt the otherâs palm getting sweaty.
Tom paused at the query, simply thinking about it. He stopped at his bedroom door, opening it rather quickly. Tord cringed at the squeal of the doorâs hinges, which Tom took notice of.
âSorry,â Tom muttered. âYou can look through my films, if you want. Pick one.â
Tord was silent. Tom didnât know what that meant.
â..Eh..â
Oh, right. The light was off.
Heating up with unnecessary shame, Tom felt around the wall closest to his door until there was a texture change. He patted the new spot and the light above his bed came on, allowing the two boys to actually see their environment.
Tord cringed again, but Tom didnât see it this time, only hearing a hiss from the boy nearby. Why was he so sensitive? Did everything startle him?
Taking only one more moment to think about those questions, his shame rose further. He should have guessed why.
Tord looked around the room, squinting. His eyes slowly widened after a few moments. He looked at the posters on the wall, Tomâs tables, the televisionâeverything.
âYour roomâs nicer than mine. A lot cleaner.â Tord mumbled.
Tom pursed his lips. âUh.. thanks?â
They both fell silent again. Tord had this really odd look on his face, but the specifics of why it was weird quite recognizable.
âOver there.â Tom directed, sweating. He nodded towards a small shelf next to his television, displaying many VHS cases by the spines. The titles were visible.
Despite being given the okay to snoop around, Tord just stood there for several seconds, fingers latched onto the fabric of his pants. The two boys locked eyes and Tom was left even more confused.
âYou can.. go look,â Tom reminded, blinking slowly. âIt wonât bite. Itâs just a shelf.â He chuckled at his own little remark. He thought he was so cool.
Tord flushed red for a second and it was obvious that neither of them had any clue in the world what they were doing. Sleepovers were weird. Tom has never had a boy in his room.
Well, Tomâs never really had anyone besides his mother in his room.
Though, it was comforting to realize that Tom wasnât the only awkward one here. He wasnât sticking out like a sore thumb.
Tord turned and stumbled over to the disk display, kneeling. He began to sift through each of the cases, eyes gliding over each title. He was really looking, and Tom didnât know what to do while he waited.
He stepped next to Tord and fiddled with his television, trying to turn it on. He flinched when Tord suddenly spoke up.
âThis one?â
Tom peered down at the boy sitting on his carpet, who was currently holding up a certain filmâs tape.
Liar Liar.
Tom read over the title in silence, only taking a couple of seconds. He hadnât seen this one in a while, so the details of it were kind of fuzzy. It was funny, thoughâat least for an American film.
âOh. Yeah, sure.â Tom took the film from Tordâs grasp, sliding the tape carefully out of the cardboard covering. He tried to be careful. He didnât feel like wasting his motherâs hard earned cash.
It took little time for him to turn toward his television and position the tape at the opening of the player. Without turning around, he addressed Tord again. âYou can sit somewhere. Just.. eh, not on my bed. My mum wonât like it unless Iâm on the floor or something.â
Tord obliged, despite his behind the scenes disrespect for Tomâs mother. He sat on the carpet by Tomâs nightstand, knees pulled to his chest. Tom only heard shuffling, but he didnât acknowledge it either way.
âWhatâs this about?â Tord questioned. Tom is puzzled.
He pushed the tape into the player. âDid you not read the blurb?â
âThe.. what?â Tord questioned. His tone was mildly squeaky. Tom started to snicker.
âThe.. the summary. Itâs on the back of the cover. It explains what the film is about.â He picked up the aforementioned case, turning it so the back was facing Tord. He traced his pointer over the paragraphs. âThis.â
Tord blinked. Tom figured that he felt really dumb right now, which was funny. Just a little bit of payback. He didnât even dignify it with a response.
Tom walked away from the television and the movie started. He was about to sit down, but Tord started talking again.
âHey, can you.. can you turn the light back off?â The Norwegian asked. He was sweating a little, and his tone was somewhat heavy. âSorry, myâ head hurts. Itâs worse at school, but I canât do anything about it there.â
Tord didnât need to explain himself, as Tom was already walking over to the light to switch it back off. âDonât worry about it.â
The film had lit up the room decently by now, anyway.
Tomâs trip back to his bed was a little slower, but he eventually found himself safe in the warmth of his comforter.
âGlad that we could do this,â Tom muttered. âDidnât think my mum would let me.â
Tord was quiet, and Tom felt a pang in his chest. Was he not supposed to say that? He was just being nice to Tord, wasnât he?
â..I didnât think youâd talk to me after the other day.â Tord finally said.
Oh.
That was somehow worse.
Tom dug his fingers into his legs without really realizing. âSorry.â
âNo, donât be,â Tord replied. âYouâre talking to me now, so itâs okay.â
Tom released his grasp once it started to sting like a bruise. âYou sure?â
âYyyyup.â Tord sounded weirdly certain. Too certain. Tom sincerely could not get a read on him.
Tom shuffled in his spot. âOkay.â
He peeked back towards the television.
He didnât really realize it, and Tord didnât seem to either, but eventually an hour or two passed. It really only hit him when the other yawned.
âWhat time is it?â Tord questioned, stretching his arms over his head. Tom didnât actually know. He could only assume it was somewhat late, because there was little light coming in through his blinds. He couldnât hear Bailey in the kitchen anymore, either.
He did wish he got to say goodnight to her, first.
Tom stood up to retrieve the VHS from the player. âUh.. night.. time.â He answered.
âI think Iâm going to go to bed.â Tord announced. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbled, then hunched forward. Tom thought his posture sucked, but he couldnât judge too much. Itâs not like he had a perfect back.
âThatâll be good. Do you want a blanket?â
Tom fully expected a firm âyesâ, but Tord subverted that.
âI can use my jacket.â
Tom huffed. âCome on, thatâs dumb.â He lowered his voice as he exited his room, walking down the hall. Tord followed without question.
The Brit opened a closet, reaching up to pull down a rolled up, puffy blanket. He started to unravel it, then passed it to Tord about halfway through. He needed to be able to carry it, after all.
âGo downstairs. Donât trip on that thing.â Tom murmured, turning back towards the closet. He reached down for a pillow contained in soft, thin plastic, tearing it open with unnecessary effort. He followed Tord downstairs.
Tord had already finished unrolling the blanket by the time Tom had met him at the sofa. He tossed the pillow to one end, attempting to predict Tordâs sleeping habits.
Tord waved the blanket up and down over the sofa a couple of times, eventually letting it fall and rest on the cushions.
He turned around and locked eyes with Tom again, who was just observing.
Mmm.
âUmâ goodnight.â Tom muttered, breaking the silence. Tordâs slightly stiff shoulders fell, to Tomâs relief.
âGoodnight.â Tord smiled for a second, then turned back around to face the sofa.
Tom expected him to take his time getting comfortable, but instead, the other let himself fall face-first into his makeshift bed. His face was buried in the freshly unpackaged pillow.
Tom didnât like how still the other was. Was he even breathing?
â..Please donât suffocate and die overnight.â
Tord shuffled, making things ever so slightly less tense. He rolled onto his back like a normal person and stared up at Tom. âMaybe Iâll do it to spite you.â
âIâm going to bed.â Tom huffed, barely forcing down a grin at Tordâs stupid remark.
âAwh. Gânight, Tom.â
âGoodnight.â
Tom turned around and made his way back upstairs, then to his room. He shut his door behind him and prayed that the awkwardness was over. Not that he didnât have fun, but hanging out with just Tord at his house was not a common occurrence.
Hanging out with anyone at his house was not a common occurrence, so..
He took a few minutes to get changed, turn off his television and get his bed more comfortable. Eventually, heâd shielded himself in his blankets and was left staring at the ceiling.
He had the urge to talk to Edd right now. He wanted to reassure him that everything was fine now and that he and Matt didnât need to be worried, but he was too comfortable in bed and his phone was in his bag. He wasnât sure if Edd was even awake or had his cellphone around, anyway.
He considered leaving his fabric paradise to retrieve his probably near-dead device, but it wasnât worth having to readjust his sleeping positions all over again. It could wait until the morning, if he remembered.
He closed his eyes, and he didnât know how sleepy heâd really been until he woke up the next morning.
It had been just less than a week since the incident at the cave.
Everything and everyone had been awkward. The next time all four boys saw each other, Edd was quick to apologize to the boy, Matt hovering behind. Tom had stared, unspeaking. His avoidance was obvious, and he knew it. They all knew it.
Even now, Tom had still been avoiding his friend. He didnât understand how easily Edd and Matt could just let it go. Did they not care? Were they just sucking up to Tord for the sake of peace?
Even though he was used to them acting like that when arguments broke out, that didnât mean he wasnât put off by it, and either way, this wasnât a regular argument. Tord had a gun and he used it. Not just once, but five times.
He canât just act like that didnât happen. It didnât matter that Tord saved his life or that he so carefully made sure Tom didnât even have to look at the body of whatever had chased them. He still shot it. He still killed it. He still refused to tell anyone he had the gun to begin with.
That was all Tom could remember about that day, really. Just.. Tord. What Tord was doing, what he was saying. Otherwise, things were blurry. He knew things happened, it was just.. missing. He couldnât wrap his head around it.
It was lunch time.
Every school day since the incident, Tom had very begrudgingly decided to keep going to school. As much as heâd wanted to just stay out forever so there was less of a chance heâd have to deal with Tord, there were arguably worse fates. He didnât want to have to answer to his mum. He didnât want her to hound him, even possibly take him out of school entirely if things got too bad. Even if he didnât want to go to school, he couldnât stand to be stuck at home all the time.
Things were how they always were. Tord was poking at a sandwich he didnât want, Edd was chowing down on a sandwich he did want, Matt was drinking grape juice, and Tom was slowly eating a bag of crisps.
It was eerily quiet at the table, but Tom had grown used to it by now.
It seemed like nobody wanted to talk to each other, despite Eddâs attempts to pull things back to normality with his apology to Tord. Tom didnât know why he was apologizing to begin with. Why wasnât Tord sorry?
Despite the hopelessness, Edd spoke up. He told the three others about his afternoon yesterday, about his weekend plans, what he was having for fucking dinner tonight. Tom knew he was just trying to fill the silence.
Finally, he prompts the three to hopefully respond.
âSo, on Sunday, I was thinking we could go to the park or something. Itâs been a bit since weâve hung out and it would probably be nice to just.. get some fresh air. Without, um.. creepy stuff happening.â He said. He was done with his sandwich at this point, leaving him to sit with his eyes unable to focus on a particular thing or person. Nobody answered, at least not immediately.
â..I can probably go.â Matt chimed in, leaving Edd ever so slightly less awkward. Maybe hopeful. Tom frowned.
Edd beamed at Matt, then looked towards the other two boys. âAre you guys up for it? I swear, it could.. help things get back to normal.. You know.â
Tom audibly gulped at the acknowledgement that things werenât normal.
âI think youâre missing something.â
Tomâs whole body stiffened at the sound of Tordâs voice. He hadnât heard it in days. He wasnât even sure why he still sat with them.
âWhat?â Edd blinked, the awkwardness quickly being brought back.
Tord picked his sandwich up, seemingly relenting to his hunger. âYou are missing that Tom and I arenât going.â He took a bite of the sandwich immediately after speaking.
Tom and I?
âDonât include me in this,â Tom muttered, almost instinctively. Edd didnât seem to get it.
âSo youâll come?â
Tom scooted away from Tord, attempting to create some distance between the two. He hated that they sat together to begin with. He hated this whole seating arrangement right now, but it wasnât like he had anyone else to sit with.
âNo. Iâm not going.â He replied. âYou and Matt can. I donât care. I wonât feel left out.â
Tord had already scarfed down half of his sandwich while watching the interaction. âSo whatâs the problem with me including you in my statement?â
âThe problem is me being included in any statement of yours.â Tom huffed, setting down his bag of crisps. He couldnât really get himself to eat during a scuffle like this. It made him feel gross.
Tordâs tone was flat. âYou canât be serious. You canât be so mad at me that even mentioning you pisses you off. Are you a child?â
Tom gritted his teeth.
âNo, Iâm not a fucking child. Youâre just a weirdo. Obviously Iâm going to be mad at you if you keep acting like you didnât do anything wrong. You still wonât explain jackshit to any of us.â
Tord scowled. âI have told you as much as I can, have I not? If you canât wrap your big head around it, thatâs not my problem!â
âIt is your problem. What if something really bad had happened to me, huh? Would you just tell everyone it was the monster?â
His tone noticeably lowered, obviously not wanting to let the rest of the student population in on their little situation.
âI wouldnât be telling anyone anything, because I would be dead too. I wouldnât have hurt you, either. Why canât you understand that? Edd and Matt came to understand.â Tord argued, tone still lacking any particular feeling.
Oh my fucking God.
âWhat the hell ever.â
He stood up, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He wasnât going to keep arguing about this if Tord was just going to keep brushing him off and making excuses. If Tord had just been honest, this wouldnât be an issue at all.
âEh- Tom, wait. Come back. We can talk about this.â Edd scooted to the edge of his seat, reluctantly reaching a hand out.
âNo.â Tom replied. He grabbed his tray and tossed it in the garbage, then stormed off towards the restrooms. He intended on staying there until the bell rang.
As expected, he saw none of the boys for the rest of the school day. He wasnât really sure if they were ignoring him on purpose, trying to give him space, or if they just.. didnât know what to do.
***
As Tom finished locking the front door, he turned around and was quickly met with a void-eyed woman towering over him.
âTassy, hi!â Bailey smiled, quickly wrapping an arm around her sonâs shoulders. She led him to the kitchen, then took his bag and set it on the counter.
Tom sighs. âHi, mum.. not even a âhow are youâ?â
âJeez, donât be grumpy.â Bailey frowned. âHow are you, since itâs such a bother?â
Okay.
He really hated it when she did that.
Tom wasnât really sure what to say, though. He definitely couldnât tell her the truth.
âIâm fine,â he muttered. âSorta hungry.â
âAre you fine and not good because youâre hungry? Did you not have lunch?â She questioned, concerned. She was already getting to work on checking Tomâs arms.
âOh.. no, I had lunch, I just..â
He canât tell her.
Bailey lost her fixation on the buttons of Tomâs blazer, stopping her movements and simply staring down at Tom. She seemed to be waiting for a further response.
âI dunno.â Tom shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.
She made a really weird face at him, but didnât question further.
She slid Tomâs blazer off his shoulders with a hum, and the boy took a moment to shake the sleeves off of his arms. The article of clothing was placed on the counter.
Bailey looked back at Tom. She didnât even say anything and Tom was hastily rolling his sleeves up, presenting both wrists to his mother shortly after.
âHmm.â She took careful looks over each arm, occasionally twisting and turning Tomâs wrists in slightly uncomfortable fashions.
When, as usual, she found nothing new, she rolled Tomâs sleeves up for him and went reaching for his bag.
âIâm happy youâre doing better.â She mumbled, unzipping the backpack with a hum. âNot doing that anymore.â
Tomâs chest tightened.
âThanks.. thanks, mum.â
âMmm. Sit down.â She said, not even looking at the boy directly.
Had she, for once, noticed how anxious he was?
Nonetheless, he obeyed his mother and took a seat, watching as she rummaged through the same belongings she checked every day with no changed result.
He fidgeted atop the barstool, glancing down at his legs. He quickly made note of the fact that his legs were crossed, pulling them apart rather quickly after coming to the realization, just enough so that theyâre not touching anymore. He leaned forward and rested his head on the counter.
âYou sit like a boy.â Bailey mumbled.
Tom lifted his head. âHuh?â
âYou sit like a boy! You know.. the.. lean. I guess. Am I making sense?â Bailey paused her checking and looked at Tom, lips pursed.
So it worked..
âHaha, nooo..â Tom shook his head. âIâm not sitting like a boy. Iâm just bored!â
âAre you always bored?â Bailey replied. âBecause you always sit like that. All the time.â
Ohhhh.
Tomâs hands began to quiver. He scooted closer to the counter, desperate to hide the mixture of joy and concern.
âWe-Well, I just.. thatâs just how I sit. Is that bad?â
He dug his fingers into his legs as he attempted to gauge his motherâs reaction.
Bailey blinked, resuming her near-done search. âAh? No. Itâs just posture. I donât really care. I was just messing with you.â
Hm.
âOh.â Tom murmured. He.. didnât really know what to say to that. âJust messing withâ him? What did that even mean?
His trembling fingers let go of his legs.
âDo you care if I go on a walk?â He asked, somewhat suddenly.
Bailey didnât respond right away. Tomâs hands had started to sweat. He really didnât like asking to do anything. Trying to distract himself, he absentmindedly leaned back in his seat. The slightly shrill sound of his backpack zipper filled his ears, just for a moment.
âWell.. You havenât gotten in any trouble recently, and dinner isnât for awhiâ Tass!â
Tomâs life flashed before his eyes as the front legs of the barstool lifted.
He felt two hands on his back and his own hands quickly reached out to grip the counter, swiftly saving himself from being the second person to hurt their head in the past month.
âBe careful.â Bailey huffed, frowning. âYou could have really hurt yourself, just like that Tord kid. Do you want to be like him? He probably got a concussion. I donât think you want a concussion.â
Here came the nonsensical rambling, and some shit he really didnât want to hear right now. His grasp on the counter tightened as he pulled his seat back on all four legs.
Tom hopped off the barstool, shakily reaching for his bag and blazer. âI donât want a concussion, I know.â
He desperately tried to not sound like he was being sassy, but he couldnât really help it too much.
Bailey stared at him in silence for a moment and Tom thought that maybe it was too obvious.
âYou can go out, because I feel bad that you almost hurt yourself really badly. Maybe itâll cheer you up.â She sighed. âJust- just be home soon, okay?â
âOkay.â Tom murmured, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He heard the fridge opening as he turned around, and the sound of glass clinking followed. He didnât say anything.
He waddled toward the stairs, steps slowing. A fear that had been instilled into him was the possibility of his bag weighing him down, and causing him to go tumbling down the stairs.
The thing is, if he was reckless, that could probably actually happen. He walked slowly. He shouldnât be running up stairs, even if he wasnât being put out of balance by a heavy schoolbag.
Once he made it up, he darted for his room and opened the door. He tried to be somewhat loud about it, just to make sure his mother knew he was responsive.
He stepped in, shut the door and glanced at it for a few moments, then set down his bag on the floor and started to sift through his already open closet.
He needed to change. He could not stand this uniform. It was itchy, sometimes cold, and it just made him look more girly. He hated the damn thing.
He tried to find something casual. He would have preferred his usual style.. more accessories, but he was trying to be quick. Plus, he was going out alone. If someone from school saw him all dressed up and alone, that would suck. Him and his friends already got picked on enough. His mum would have put that to a stop quickly, but she wasnât tagging along this time.
He pulled a random band tee off of its hanger, holding it in front of himself to get a better glance at it.
He quickly found a pair of jeans as well, and he gave his door another glance.
He would have liked it if he were allowed to lock it, at least for this, but whatever.
He urgently got out of his uniform and into the t-shirt, then the jeans. He pulled on a jacket, too. That was good enough. Still Tom, but not screaming to be bullied if he saw a classmate on his outing.
Stuck in silence the whole time he was getting changed, he couldnât help but find himself pondering on everything again. He sat down on his bed and pulled a sneaker on.
A walk like this probably would have been more fun if he knew his friends were going with him, but they werenât. They hadnât been hanging out, not outside of school.
All because Tord had a gun.
Edd and Matt had seemingly just let it go. Started suggesting outings again. Asking about each otherâs days.
Was Tom supposed to do that? Was he supposed to not care?
Had he been keeping things from going back to normal?
Not even Tord had wanted to go to whatever Edd had been trying to invite them all to, and he never bailed on anything. Never ever.
Was Tord avoiding Tom just as much as Tom was avoiding Tord?
Was he.. no.
Was Tord trying to actually give him space?
Nothing besides the avoidance really hinted that he was. He was probably just trying to get away from talking about it.
Then again, Tom had been doing the same thing. He didnât want to talk about it. He didnât wanna hear about it or think about it. He just wanted it over and done with. He wanted to go back to before it happened, but he couldnât just.. do that. So things were weird.
What was he even supposed to do?
Tying his other sneaker, he sighed.
He needed something to do. That was the issue. He couldnât think about it if he was occupied.
That was why he was going on this walk, anyway! To cool off. To not think about this nonsense.
The walk had to help, at least a little.
He sniffled, standing up and sighing. He walked over to his door and opened it, quickly exiting and practically jumping down the stairs. Considering earlier, that was a little uncharacteristic of him, but he tried to pay it no mind.
âIâll be back soon.â He called out to his mother, fixing his gaze upon the sight of her pouring a glass of white wine. That was probably the source of the clinking before, but that meant that this probably wasnât her first glass.
Ugh.
âOkay, sweetie.â Bailey replied quickly, setting the bottle down on the counter.. She assumedly wasnât even tipsy. Tom was thankful for that.
âLove you,â he said. His tone lowered and he looked away from the bottle, grabbing the doorknob. âSee ya.â
âMmm, love you too.â Bailey replied. âByeee..â
Still not drunk. Not from, what, two glasses? He hoped not, anyway. Thatâd make Tom worry too much.
Tom didnât respond anymore, just opening the door and darting outside. He nearly slammed it behind him, but he managed to keep his composure.
This would help. If not, he was kind of out of options that he was willing to follow through with.
He didnât want to go back to wallowing all the time.
The group arrived in front of the cave, a certain two of them mildly peeved at anotherâs shenanigans.
Considering how itâd taken merely a few minutes to get there, Edd was left pretty confused as to how it took him this long to find the place to begin with. Heâd lived here his whole life and hadnât managed to walk too far even once before?
The truth was, he was probably just really unobservant. That wouldnât be too bad if he and his friends werenât often exploring very nonsensical and probably dangerous places. It probably would have been far safer to take an adult with, but chances were, an adult would have shot down the plans entirely.
He noticed Tom attempting to step into the cave. He seemed to not even be thinking about it.
Edd pushed his arm out in front of the boy, quickly putting him at a halt.
Tom stepped back and stared up at Edd, puzzled. âWhat?â
âThereâs two entrances,â Edd quickly pointed out, turning on his torch and aiming it at the cave. âThatâs why I needed all four of us. We could cover more ground if we split up.â
Tom looked disappointed for a moment, then seemed to accept it quickly with a pretty blunt response.
âOkay, Iâll go with you.â
Nnnno. Thatâs not what Edd was trying to do, as much as he probably would have preferred taking Tom with.
He shook his head. âNo, no. If you go with me, that leaves Matt with Tord and we both know thatâs a bad idea.â
He would hope that Tom knew that, at least. He seemed smart enough to.
He turned off his light, realizing heâd left it on right as Tom responded.
âWhy donât you take Tord, then? I could take Matt and things would be fine and dandy.â The other proposed, it quickly becoming obvious how vexed this was making him.
Not that Tom didnât have a good point, but he had this feeling that, rather than antagonizing Matt, he would become annoyed by the other too quickly.
Edd would prefer that didnât happen. Heâd rather leave Tordâs clownery for Tom to deal with, and leave Tom with Tord to set the other straight.
âDo you think I enjoy babysitting?â He countered, snarky. Tom didnât even respond.
âListen, if Tord goes with Matt, heâs just gonna torture him. If you take Matt, I have to deal with getting flashed a bunch of timesâdonât take that out of contextâand I donât feel like going blind,â he crossed his arms. He could see it actively registering on Tomâs face that he was right. That was some nice validation. âYou and Tord should hang out more, anyway. Maybe itâll get you guys to not blow a gasket over every single thing the other person is doing.â
Or it could go horribly, horribly wrong, but that wouldnât be Eddâs problem once they actually split into pairs.
Tord finally involved himself in the conversation.
âOkay.. but surely there are better arrangements than that, no? What if we all just stayed in one group? This is dumb.â
To Eddâs joy, Matt jumped to his defense. âEdd already said it would cover more ground to split up,â he said. âI donât even know why youâre arguing. Donât you like bothering Tom?â
That last bit.. was not really the point Edd was trying to make, but that was okay. At least someone was on his side.
Tord openly scoffed. âWhoâs being rude now, huh?â
Matt got to the point with his response. âStill you, which is.. why weâre splitting up to begin with, right?â
Also not exactly, but it worked.
The plans seemed to be pretty much set in stone by now. Edd took Matt by the arm and led the other toward the cave, ignoring whatever he heard Tord and Tom saying behind them.
âCome on, mate.â He mumbled. He flipped on his light once the two entered, pointing it forward. Matt was quick to power his on, too.
To be frank, Mattâs always been quite jumpy. He wasnât childishly terrified of these things, it was more like.. a deer in headlights sort of thing, as far as Edd could tell. Like.. heâd get scared, and just not know what to do, and heâd stand there blankly.
Even now, with both lights on and Edd walking quite closely to the other, he seemed tense.
âYou donât have to stray away from me or anything. Iâm not.. gonna.. eh, jump at you. Not like Tord probably would.â He tried to reassure.
Itâs apparent that Matt doesnât believe him, but he stepped a little closer anyway. âCaves are creepy. They suck.â
While Matt wasnât wrong, Edd was particularly determined.
âYeah, I guess so.â He nodded in agreement.
Edd didnât notice it right away, but his light had started to reflect off of something shiny as the two walked. Matt, on the other hand, had quickly stopped his cowering to peer at it.
âI see a.. crystal thing.â The ginger murmured.
Huh?
Edd followed Mattâs gaze in the same direction, pointing his light directly that way now.
Ah.
Along the walls and edges of the cave sat many shiny stones, along the occasional, actual crystal. Matt seemed entranced.
Edd wasnât exactly someone who was into this sort of thing, but Matt wasnât scared shitless anymore. Or maybe he was, but he was distracted for now. Edd felt rather inclined to humor him, with that in mind.
âOh, what the hell? Thatâs cool.â
He adjusted the position of his light ever so slightly, trying to avoid the risk of it reflecting back into his or Mattâs eyes while they were facing that way.
Briefly, Matt took a couple of steps away from Edd, then looked at him for approval. His eyes were a little big. Not as strangely odd as the group had seen at the lunch table today, but still noticeable.
He set his flashlight down on the ground, pointing in the direction of the rocks in the edges of the walls.
Edd gave an awkward shrug. He wasnât in charge of the other or anything, just making sure he didnât get psychologically tortured.
Matt took the shrug as an âOkayâ, stepping further off to pick up some of the stray rocks. He could only fit so many in his hands, and pockets seemed to not occur to him as an option. That, or they were too big for pockets. Edd couldnât really tell.
Matt stepped back over, briefly closing his eyes once he turned to face Edd again. Edd diverted the light out of his face pretty fast. Oops.
Matt presented one of the rocks to the other like a cat presenting a mouseâproud and curious. He did sort of fumble to keep the other rocks in one hand, though. He had to set down a few at his feet before he continued.
âLook at this. Itâs sparkly.â He tapped at the edges of the stone.
Curiously, Edd followed Mattâs lead and tapped at the shinier parts of the geode.
âYeah, it is.â Edd nodded in agreement and the two fell silent. Only for a moment, however.
âI wish I could be sparkly.â Matt complained. He did sound legitimately dismayed. Edd just found that funny.
âThat sounds gay as hell.â Edd replied, his lips curling into the slightest grin.
âWhâ No.â Matt shook his head, a little confused. âLet me.. do what I want.â
Eddâs response was deadpan. âGay.â
âNo!â
Realizing how quickly he might have been riling Matt up, he stopped his nonsense and relented to the other. It was just a joke, but he didnât mind letting up if it kept Matt sane.
âOkay, fine. You can.. be sparkly, or whatever.â
Mattâs figure relaxed and he looked from his stones to Edd again.
âYou mean it?â He questioned.
âMeh. not like I have a reason to..â
Swiftly, Edd was interrupted by a loud bang. Both boys noticeably jumped, Mattâs rocks falling from his hands with echoing clanks. He didnât reach down to pick them up.
As if to ask, âDid you hear that too?â, the boys exchanged a firm stare.
They both knew the answer.
Now tense and rather uncomfortable again, Matt crouched to the floor. He began to recollect what heâd dropped, his breaths slow and somewhat rigid.
In the meantime, Edd slowly waves his arm around the surrounding environment, looking for a possible explanation to the sound.
It had to have been from the area that the others were exploring. It was too far off to be related to Edd and Matt at all, but too close to be from somewhere else entirely.
Apart from the dull clinking of stones tapping each other in Mattâs palms, itâs rather quiet.
Then there was another bang, and Matt made a point to hold the rocks close to his chest.
What the fuck, man?
Edd was about to openly question it, only to be met with another bang, then one more.
Matt looked to Edd for answers, only to be met with a visibly frightened scowl. That sealed the deal. They needed to go.
âCan you.. help me pick these up, and then we can leave? Please?â Matt implored, nodding his head toward the couple of rocks that werenât really possible to fit in his hands.
Edd quickly nodded, slipping his bag off of his shoulders and setting it on the ground. He unzipped it and Matt quickly lowered the stones inside. Edd picked up the ones left, carefully setting them on top of the rocks that had already been secured.
Edd zipped the bag up, stood up, and slung it back over his shoulder. It wasnât light, but it wasnât all that heavy.
Matt crawled over to his flashlight and picked it up, then jumped to his feet and paced over to Edd.
âLetâs get out of here. Now.â Edd blurted out, wrapping an arm around Mattâs upper back. He led the other in the same direction they came, having little trouble escaping.
Once the two stepped out, Edd dropped his arm and both boys turned off their lights.
Matt stared at Eddâs old bag, then rubbed his wrist against his shirt. No real reason for it, it seemed.
âI.. should have grabbed more of those,â he softly complained. âBut I didnât want to get.. eaten or something.â He huffed.
Edd made an attempt to reassure. âWeâre fine now, though. Right?â
For only a moment, Matt smiled at the other. That dropped fast, though.
âWhere are Tord and Tom?â
Shit.
That was a good question, one that Edd had no immediate answer to.
âI donât know. We- canât go back in there, though. If there really is a danger,â he replied. âLetâs wait for them.â
Matt nodded in agreement.
Eddâs decision to wait was right, as the two aforementioned others came strolling out of the cave around two or three minutes later.
He tries to check in on them fast.
âHey! Are you gu..â
Both boys stood drenched in blood, Tord holding a petrified Tomâs hand firmly. The Norwegian seemed a lot more present in the moment than the other, as the dark-eyed boy wasnât even reacting to the world around him. Just standing there.
Tord stared at Edd with his mouth clamped shut. Edd didnât even know what to do in this situation.
It had quickly became apparent that someone had gotten really hurt or worse, given all the blood. Looking at the two, though, neither Tord or Tom seemed to actually be the source of it. Sure, Tord was drenched in it and Tom was clearly beyond disturbed.. but they both seemed physically fine.
At least it wasnât his friends whoâd been hurt, but what the fuck?
Finally, Tord spoke up.
â..Hei.â
Was he serious?
Tomâs grasp on Tordâs hand visibly loosened. It was out of character for him to be holding it to begin withâwhatever happened had shoved that out the window.
Edd went through a verbal stumble for a few moments, only for his words to tumble out like an avalanche once he could somewhat figure out what he was trying to say.
âWhat the hell happened?â
Tord didnât seem to waste even a second. Edd swore heâd get whiplash from how fast Tord jumped to answer.
âI shot something in the head.â he started, averting his gaze.
Shot.. something?
Shot something.
Since when did Tord have a gun?
âFour times. I shot it four times. Neither of us know what it was. Either way, it tried to hurt us.â The Norwegian continued to explain.
Edd didnât know what to say to that. Whereâd he get a gun? Ammo? Why did he bring it with? Why didnât he tell them he even had it to begin with?
Matt decided to speak up now, reasonably so.
âThat sounds fake.â
Edd was inclined to agree, but in that case, what actually happened?
Tord and Tom were unharmed, covered in blood and apparently Tord had a gun.
He couldnât see what else could have been the true situation, despite how outlandish Tordâs claim was.
âI am not going to lie about a dead body that you can go and take a look at all by yourself, Matt.â Tord started, sighing. Edd caught onto his annoyance quickly. âI donât know. Something died and it wasnât us.â
Not that he didnât probably have a point, but this was still weird.
He wanted to question further. Well, more like.. needed to. He honestly would rather not know anything else, but he cared too much to just not question.
Right as he began to think over his next response, Tomâs muttering intervened.
âI could have fucking died.â
Eddâs heart sank into his stomach.
It was probably even more urgent for him to think of something to say now, but Tom already had that covered.
Probably for the worst.
Edd and Matt watched in something close to horror as Tom yanked his hand out of Tordâs grasp, shouting.
âI nearly. Fucking. DIED!â
Tomâs eyes seemed locked on the Norwegian. âAnd you-â
His voice was strained, his words heavy. âYou had a GUN! You just- you brought a gun with you! Why?! Why did you have that?!â
Edd clenched his jaw for a moment. That was a very fair, yet very awful question. Awful that it.. had to be asked. Not that Tom was asking at all.
Tom had a finger pointed in Tordâs face. The other had visibly recoiled, and he seemed clearly at a loss for a response.
âI.. I, uh.â Tordâs gaze averted towards the ground, his arms at his sides.
There had to be a straightforward answer, right? He had the gun for a reason.
It wasnât clear right now whether that reason was reasonable or not, but Tordâs mannerisms werenât making it at all easier to figure out.
While Edd was honestly too bewildered to get anything out at the moment, Tom was quick for the punch. Funnily enough, probably for the same reasons that Edd wasnât talking.
âIs it yours? Why didnât you tell any of us you had it?â Tom questioned, tone sharp.
âIt canât be yours, can it? Not legally.. weâre teenagers.â
That was unfortunately a good point.
Edd couldnât really imagine what had gone down, with or without the given explanations. It couldnât have been the gun alone that had shaken Tom to his core this way, right?
But that would imply that maybe the story of something chasing them was true. Heâd never heard anything like it before.
Tordâs gaze finally came up from the grass, but he was still clearly refusing eye contact.
âItâsâ Itâs my dadâs.. I..â
Everyone fell silent, staring on with similarly worried and confused expressions. Tom was visibly sweating, Matt seemed to not even be present, or at least not focused, and Edd just had a slight scowl. He knew he should probably hear Tord out, but what?
âListen. Just- listen, okay? I know that this looks really bad.. but I wasnât..â Tord attempted to continue explaining, his tone shaky and his words not quite coming out at an appropriate speed.
âI wasnât thinking, alright? But- thatâs okay. Itâs fine, because it saved us when that monster back there was trying to kill us.â
Edd couldnât stand to listen to this anymore. Probably for the best, considering that Tomâs stunned silence seemed to snap back to angered shouts pretty quickly. He drowned out foreign shouts and whatever else was being said, for what was probably only a few seconds.
As the two continued their shouting match, Edd looked to Matt.
âWas he planning to shoot us?â Matt questioned, voice rapidly lowering to a whisper.
Itâs not like Edd had an answer to that, and.. he didnât want an answer. He didnât want to think about that.
Tone similarly low, but not quite as soft, Edd replied. âI donât think I should have left him with Tom,â he started. âIâm glad I didnât leave you with him.â
He meant that. He shouldnât have left Matt or Tom with Tord, but he was already so reluctant to let Matt hang around Tord in isolation anyway. This just proved him right.
Almost cartoonishly, Matt gulped. âIâm glad that none of us died.â
âIâm glad too.â Edd said.
There was a loud, sudden boom. The brunet and the ginger both gave noticeable, startled gasps.
Once Edd glanced back at the other boys to make sure that nobody was hurt, he was simply met with Tord returning his firearm to his coat pocket.
He grabbed Mattâs arm firmly, pulling the boy behind him before letting go. Matt doesnât really react, though Edd can feel his eyes locked on the back of his head. Matt had this odd way about himâit was easy to tell when he was staring, for whatever reason he may be.
Nobody was hurt. Tom was still standing there, visibly frustrated. Whether or not he was still scared or not by this point was unclear. Edd had assumed his fear was overtaken by rage.
The only thing hurt was the tree that Tord had assumedly shot at, a visible hole in its bark. Edd kind of felt bad for it.
He didnât very much like how casually Tord had done that, either.
âThere is one bullet left.. One. Do you think I would purposely waste all my bullets and risk failing a murder attempt, if I actually planned to harm anyone?â
Okay.
Tord continued his rant.
âYou all think so low of me. Iâve never been mean in a serious manner. I thought you all knew I was joking. Me acting like that doesnât mean that I want to fucking kill any of my friends.â He complained, returning to his âneutralâ stance. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides.
It was so strange how Tord could totally flip this onto them. Was it not weird that heâd brought it without telling them? Was it not weird that heâd sort of been waving it around a moment ago? Was it not weird that he wouldnât tell them why he even brought it to begin with?
âI..â
Edd watched as Tom stared at the three of his friends. He could never truly decipher where his gaze exactly was, but it wasnât hard to make a guess.
â..Am fucking going home.â He croaked, immediately whipping around to face the opposite way. As he stormed away, Edd noticed him hugging himself.
Edd had honestly had enough.
No longer engaging with the situation at hand, he once again reached for his ginger friend.
He made a point to gently nudge Matt forward, only following him and Tom out once he was certain that he would be behind the two of them.
Maybe he was paranoid, but if Tord were to lash out..
He didnât want to think about that, actually.
Tom was pretty much long gone by the time that Edd and Matt escaped the forest, and Matt slowed his steps.
âI wanted to get more rocks.. or something. Iâm pretty sure those noises were just the gun.â He muttered.
Darn.
âWell.. donât worry. Maybe we can go back when, uhh.. this is sorted out. When heâs not there.â Edd tried to reassure, giving Matt a careful pat on the back.
He who shall not be named.
âIâm worried about Tord.â Matt blurted out, almost suddenly.
He who shall be named.
Edd mentally sighed.
âIâm worried about Tom,â he said, frowning. âHe was, ehhh.. catatonic. Deer in headlights.â
âHe was just staring. It was.. kind of creepy. Then he started yelling and then I, uh..â Matt blinked. âI dunno. I didnât like it so I.. um.â
He looked confused with himself for a second, then he just shrugged.
Whatever that meant.
âI didnât like it either. I think that we should check on heee- agh,â he took a deep breath. âH-him. We should check on him when heâs cooled off. Later. Assuming his mum doesnât ground him forever.â
That last bit was mostly a joke.
Tom was sort of an odd subject, sometimes. Not that there was anything against him, he was just.. the odd one out of an already odd group.
To be fair, Edd thought he was cool. Different. He just didnât really.. get it, a lot of the time.
Kind of just the whole boy thing. Being a girl seemed like it had more freedom. More to do.
Then again, it seemed like Tomâs mum viewing him as a girl was the cause of many issues. The whole.. protectiveness, as far as Edd could tell.
Him, Matt and Tord were always boys and none of their mums were this way.
Okay, well Mattâs grandma wasnât, and Edd didnât know anything about Tordâs mother, but he still never heard any complaints about overprotective behavior from anyone but Tom.
Huh.
âEdd. Eddie, I was talking to you.â
Huh?
Matt stood in front of the teen, staring in confusion.
âDonâtâ call me that. Sorry. What were you saying?â He said, resuming the walk.
Matt moved on from Eddâs weird zone out pretty fast. âI was asking what we should do until then. Are you going to go back home? Or you could come over to mine for a bit.â
Edd wanted some distance from his house, at least momentarily. Too close to the cave and all of that nonsense. Heâd probably be fine in a few hours.
âOh, we can go to yours. I take it that we need to keep our voices down?â
Matt grinned a little. âYep!â
âThought so. Thatâs fine.â Edd smiled right back.
***
It was soon enough that the two arrived at Mattâs home, stepping up the porch with light feet. Edd knew better than to walk at his regular pace around here.
Mattâs grandma wasnât meanâreally the opposite, which is why he was determined not to disturb her.
Matt got his keys out, staring up at the purple-grey building for a moment before unlocking the door. He carefully pushed it open, then peered inside.
Silence.
He stepped inside and then looked back at Edd. âCome on.â
Awesome.
Matt was already quietly pacing off by the time that Edd closed the door behind him. That was okay, Edd knew his way around this place like it was his own. He simply followed Matt down the hall once he was certain that the door was shut properly.
Once Matt and Edd were both in his bedroom, Matt shut the door behind them both and plopped down atop his purple comforter.
âWhat do you wanna do?â He asked, already relaxing. It was the most relaxed that Edd had seen him since the cave trip started.
He went right ahead and took a seat next to the freckle-faced boy. âWe can play a game. I donât remember what you have, though..â
In response to Eddâs rather lackluster memory, Matt stood up from the bed and instead kneeled on the floor. He sifted carefully through a crate on the floor for a few moments, only to get rather impatient pretty quickly. Edd watched with pursed lips.
It wasnât long at all before Matt presented the brunet with a copy of Crash Bandicoot. âHey, what about this?â He asked, tone flat.
Edd examined the cover art for a few moments, only to sigh in dismay.
âThatâs not a multiplayer game.â
Matt frowned in return. âWhat, we canât take turns?â
âWell, we could, but..â Edd started, only to take only another second to think. Taking turns wasnât a bad idea. It was just instinct to respond argumentatively.
Matt didnât bother commenting on Eddâs instinctual response, simply placing the gameâs case on top of his comforter. Drumming his fingers against the cover, Edd watched as Matt fiddled with cables and turned on the television.
Within about thirty seconds, Matt turned back around and snatched the game from under Eddâs fingertips. He took it out of itsâ case and continued getting everything set up.
While it took a few moments, both boys were eventually presented with the gameâs startup screen. Matt scooted backwards toward the foot of his bed, then pushed himself up next to his friend with one hand. His other held the controller, which he presented to Edd.
âDo you want to play first?â He offered.
Edd took only a few moments to think it over, then hummed. âNah. I havenât played very much, you should go first.. so I can prepare myself.â
Matt blinked, then looked back toward the telly and pressed the circle button on his controller. âSuit yourself.â
He was presented with a list of save files, most of which were empty. He went to the first available one and took a few moments to name it. âM + Eâ, he typed.
Edd had already started snickering. âThatâs gay.â
Deadpan, Matt slowly turned his head to stare at him. Cue the concrete noise. âWhat else am I supposed to name it, huh?â
âUm.. Name it, uhh.. Not gay. Yeah.â
Matt pushed himself back onto the floor.
âHey, come back!â Edd huffed, promptly nudging Matt in the back of the head with his foot.
âOw!â Matt exclaimed, turning around to stare up at Edd from the ground. âWhyâd you do that?â
ââCause you moved away.â Edd replied. âCome back. My joke wasnât that bad.â
âIt was that bad.â Matt shook his head.
Edd frowned. âWhatever, come back!â
âApologize and I will.â Matt replied, turning back around to actually pay attention to the game.
âFiiiine,â Edd sighed. âIâm sorryâŚâ he pulled a rather dramatic frown in that moment, but Matt wasnât looking.
Matt shuffled slightly. âYouâre not.â
Eddâs response was to hook his arms under Mattâs armpits and drag him back up onto the bed. Matt almost dropped the controller from how hard he flinched, but he managed to keep a decent grasp on it.
âWhâ Hey!â Matt huffed, setting the controller down out of Eddâs reach. He sort of just shoved Edd in retaliation, but it didnât do very much.
âHa-haâ was Eddâs only response.
Matt just pouted as the game properly began.
For awhile, Edd watched in silence with the occasional comment on Mattâs gaming skills. There wasnât much to do.
Every time Matt messed up or died, he would promptly say it was Eddâs fault. Not like it actually was, it was just humorous to argue with him.
Inevitably, Edd got bored of watching. He let out a sigh and laid back, staring at the ceiling.
Matt wasnât really at a spot where he could pause the game, so he kept his eyes on the television. Regardless, he seemed to at least be aware of his environment.
âWhatâs wrong?â He questioned.
Edd let out a sigh. âIâm thinking about earlier.â
â..When you kicked me in the head?â Matt replied. He was probably joking.
Edd blinked a couple of times, glancing down towards Matt at the foot of the bed.
âEhhh.. no. I meant what happened at the cave.â He clarified.
Matt finally got to a spot where he could save the game and pause it. After he did so, he leaned forward and placed the controller down on his television stand.
âWell, what about it?â He asked. His tone sounded a little flatter now. He turned around to stare at Edd.
Edd sat up and scooted back against the headboard, though he took a moment to remove his shoes beforehand. NO shoes on Mattâs bed. That would be wretched and Matt would probably throw the telly at him.
âI donât know if we should have left Tord there by himself,â he explained. âI donât think heâs ever acted like that before. Not so.. seriously. Heâs usually only that defensive as a joke.â
Matt took a moment to consider Eddâs words, then shrugged. âHe had a gun. Thatâs weird, right? Iâd.. probably be defensive too. Even though it was his fault, wasnât it?â
Fair.
âWell.. yeah, but why did he bring it to begin with? Or.. more like, uhhh.. why didnât he tell us?â
The brunet pulled his knees to his chest, carefully laying his head atop them.
âHe was probably scared.â Matt suggested.
Edd let out a sigh. âYeah, obviously. But why? If heâd told us off the bat that he had it.. we probably wouldnât have gotten so worried. We probably would have thought it was cool!â He raised a brow for a moment, thinking over the events of the afternoon.
âIt makes him look really bad that he didnât just tell us.â Matt muttered. âAnd the blood.. eugh. What if he did want to hurt.. us?â
Edd tensed up noticeably. âWell, I donât want to assume that! There had to have been a reason. I know heâs mean all the time but heâs never been.. violent. Not even close. Him jumping to a murder plan just doesnât seem like him.â
Matt frowned as Eddâs shoulders rose. âI donât want to think he would either. He just- he still said something died.â
âThat one didnât seem planned. Maybe thatâs.. hey.â Edd blinked, seeming to come to a realization.
âHuh?â Matt tilted his head, eyes wide.
âMaybe thatâs why he was so defensive. If he just- Almost died. If that whole story was true, whether it be an actual.. monster, or just some animal.. oh my God.â Eddâs stance softened and he facepalmed. âI think.. all three of us are a little stupid.â
âDo not include me.â Matt huffed.
âIâm not gonna take the whole fault for assuming the worst!â Edd retaliated.
Matt picked up one of his pillows. âDonât include Tom, either! If that whole thing is true then heâs allowed to be scared more than either of us!â
He swung the pillow at Eddâs face.
âAh-â Eddâs eyes widened and whatever he had on his mind momentarily dissipated.
He swiped up a pillow and chucked it at Matt, who seemed to react strangely fast, ducking down before it could make any noticeable impact. It kind of just brushed his hair.
Matt seemed to get one in on the other though, quickly retaliating with a hard swing to the otherâs face. The pillow hit Edd with a thump, sending the other throwing himself onto the floor dramatically.
Edd rolled over onto his stomach, breathing heavily.
ââŚEdd?â
Edd tilted his head, peering at Matt from the floor. He watched as Matt poked his head over the side of his mattress, staring down at the other with concern.
Edd didnât respond.
âAre you okay?â Matt questioned, tone softening.
Edd still didnât respond.
At least, not until Matt pushed himself off of the bed. He towered over the other, raising his foot as if he were preparing to crush him.
Eddâs eyes widened and he rolled onto his back, then sat up and scooted backwards towards the closet doors. âHey, hey, waitwaitwait-! Iâm fine!â
Matt began to snicker. âI thought so. Donât mess with me.â
Edd grabbed one of Mattâs shoes from the ground, a pair he hadnât worn in awhile, and chucked it at him.
âEDD-!â Matt ducked and the shoe hit the wall. âYou- youâre gonna wake my grandmother!â He whisper-shouted, quickly pacing over to pick the shoe up. He brushed the wall with his hand, kind of just making sure nothing was broken.
Edd stood up, brushing himself off. âShit, sorry. Didnât mean to.â
Matt looked at the shoe, then at Edd. After a second, he turned it onto itsâ side and bopped his friend over the top of his head with it. Edd flinched and rubbed the spot afterwards.
âOww. Rude.â He complained, planting himself back down on the bed.
âRevenge,â Matt said. âAnyway.. do you want a turn on the game, now?â
Edd blinked. âOh, yeah.â He stood back up, grabbed the controller, then went back to his previous spot.
As he unpaused the game, Matt took a seat next to him. âWhen do you have to leave?â
âOh, umm..â Edd took a second to think on it, fiddling with the controller. âProbably in an hour or two. Maybe longer. I can always call my mum and ask.â
Matt rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, watching contently. âOkay. You can call if you want.â
âI will next time I die or something. Or when I get to another save. Whatever.â
Matt hummed for a second. âOkay.â
The two continued their hangout, seemingly content for the next few hours.
Tord was awoken to a pulsing in his skull and blurred vision. He coughed and shook where he laid, chest throbbing.
Groaning, he sat up instinctively, only to fall back against the wall due to the spinning that had started in his head. His throat felt strained and tight. He attempted to swallow, giving off a noticeable ache in his lower neck.
For a few moments, he just sat there, back against the wall, legs flat on the floor. He pulled them to his chest and let his head rest atop his knees.
How did this happen?
It only took a few moments of pondering upon it before he recalled.
Pappa.
His forehead felt as if wind were blowing onto it, despite the lack of breeze in the hallway or the house in general.
Absentminded, he lifted his palm to his head and delicately poked around where the gash in his noggin would be.
To his dismay, the plaster was gone, just like he thought it would be.
He knew exactly who did this. There was only one person who couldâve, and it was an easy assumption anyway.
Dumme jĂŚvel.
Stupid bastard.
Now that he was no longer within what had felt like only an inch of losing his life, he took a glance around the hall, searching for the aforementioned bastard.
His hearing had been quite sensitive lately, but it was.. eerily quiet.
Tord wasnât really surprised. It was totally like his father to come home from wherever he went during the day, instigate chaos and then leave again. It was like a hobby.
A shine caught Tordâs eye as he investigated his surroundings, causing him to stop and squint.
The flashlight. The whole âreasonâ that this happened. His dad hadnât even bothered to go put the device back where it was usually kept.
He haphazardly crawled over to it, snatching it up as if it would run away if he were even one more second too late.
Speaking of late, what time was it? It couldnât have been long, right?
There were no clocks in here. There was only one way to tell.
Exhausted, he placed his hand on the wall with his free hand, legs wobbling beneath him. He pulled himself to his feet with a huff.
It doesnât take long for his gaze to fall upon one of the windows, and his question is answered immediately.
The sky looked the exact same. It was like no time had passed at all.
He still had time to go see his friends, if he could recollect himself fast enough.
The only issue is that, instead, he seemed to only be dropping more pieces of his head from his overfilled hands.
The house still laid in silence, the same eerie silence itâd held prior to Tageâs return.
Now that Tord thought about it, his arrival came mere minutes after Tordâs..
There was no way.
His father just wanted someone to hurt. That had to have been it. It couldnât have been a coincidence that his father just happened to come home around the same time that Tord usually would.
Itâs not like Tage ever had a reason to be home.
âŚ
Tord hated him.
He hated everything about him.
The way every joke and moment of joy was at Tordâs expense, the little hesitation to harm his own flesh and blood, the constant, endless stench of alcohol on his breath. His husky voice, the way he could never just keep his hands to himself, the way he would act like nothing happened as soon as someone else was present.
Tord hated it all. He despised it. It was like his father had been sent by Hell just to torture him and his once so loving mamma.
It wasnât fair. None of it was fair.
He wasnât allowed to have fun, or eat, or sleep, or talk, or have hobbies. Tage never seemed to do anything with his time but drink and scream, but at least he was allowed to do those things. When did Tord ever receive the freedom to send the whole household into war? A single crumb of disobedience would have him forced to spiral and self-reflect for weeks.
He couldnât keep doing this.
He couldnât keep bending to his pappaâs will, not like this. He had to do something, even if it was temporary. Even if it was small. Even if, maybe, nobody would ever know.
He just wanted to have fun. To feel joy.
He was still going out. He didnât care anymore. As long as his father had the freedom to hurt him, he needed to remind himself that he had the freedom to keep living.
He stared directly down the hall at the room that started this mess.
He would show his father who the bastard was. He would show that horrible old man how much he could take without being found out.
He stumbled down the hall, eventually properly regaining his footing just as he approached the empty bedroom. He pushed the door open with that same overwhelming creak from before, stepping into the room with a rather flat expression.
He paced over to the wardrobe once more, mostly ignoring the items he hadnât even tried to put away before. He pushed them to the side until he spotted exactly what he was looking for.
On display like a gift sat a small, black safe. It was locked at the moment, but that would be no issue for Tord, considering a small rip of notebook paper laid on top of it. The writing was chicken scratch, but Tord had came to decipher it easily over the years.
It was a code. Tord wasnât sure what kind of person would just leave out the combination for something this way, but he wasnât surprised about it being his father.
The old fool was lucky that Tord was old enough to know not to play around with the object inside.
But then again, maybe he would be content to lose his child that way. He could blame it on negligence more than a direct act of violence.
Tord looked over the code a few times, setting the flashlight down on top of the safe in the meantime. He placed his hand on the lock and began to turn it, listening to the recognizable sound of clanking and shifting of small gears.
The door practically popped open, as if it were urging him to open it.
He obliged with little hesitation, unable to force down a somewhat proud smirk as his gaze landed upon his fatherâs handgun.
He picked it up, wrapping his hand around it with carefulness. He made a point to keep his finger off of the trigger.
He didnât check if it was loaded or not. Frankly, he didnât care. He had no intention to use it, only to have it on him. Maybe show his friends, brag about what he was hopefully going to get away with.
He just knew it was heavy. This was the first time heâd ever held any firearm, so he couldnât exactly compare it to anything.
He couldnât really check it without being at risk of getting caught, anyway. Heâd rather just hope for the best.
Slowly and carefully, he slides the gun into one of the inner pockets of his coat. Heâd prefer if it didnât fall out and accidentally blow someoneâs head off, in the case that it was actually loaded.
Itâs not long before he reset the lock and grabbed the flashlight once more, then headed to his room. He didnât want to wear this wretched uniform for any longer.
He got changed into what he basically always woreâa red T-shirt and jeans, then walked towards the window of his bedroom.
Carefully, he pulled it open, leaning out and setting the flashlight on the ground. He didnât want his hands full for this, too risky.
He was trying to avoid falling again, after all. Especially after being thrown around only a few minutes ago.
He got two legs out, then hopped down as carefully as he could, taking a moment to shield his face for the couple of seconds that he wasnât touching anything below or above him.
He got out of the house rather smoothly, picking up the flashlight one more time and starting his trip to Eddâs house. He made a point to leave his bedroom window open.
***
During his walk to Eddâs place, Tord really had nothing to do but think. Itâs not like anyone was around to talk to, and itâs not like he had one of those iPods to listen to music on.
The consequence of being left to think to himself was that he was quickly brought to some terrible conclusions.
The gun was loaded.
The safe was easily accessible for a reason.
Those two factors canât stop Tord from thinking about it. Whatever the specifics were, there was no way that they could have been good or even remotely okay.
He knew why the gun was already loaded, and it wasnât because his pappa was worried about intruders. He was already a big man as is, he didnât need a gun to scare away a thief.
The thought spun around in his head like a carousel.
His dad left the gun fully loaded and easily accessible on purpose.
It was all on purpose. Of course it was.
Tord always knew better than to believe his father would do anything on accident.
He was left thinking about this up until the very moment that he was stepping up Eddâs porch, and Tom seemed to be following him for part of the walkâs end. Tord wondered why he didnât say hello.
Of course, Edd was already waiting outside. Matt seemed to already be there, probably arrived first. That wasnât surprising.
Upon arriving, the three other boys kind of just stare at Tord. He knew whyâhis wound was out on full display. Probably really gross to look at. Not like that was his fault, though.
âTord, your.. uh.â Edd stuttered, then pointed at his own forehead. âWhereâs your bandages?â
Tord couldnât give an honest answer to that, but he also wasnât really sure if he could lie about it.
âThey.. are gone. Yep.â Tord replied.
Just play it off like itâs nothing.
Edd raised a brow. âWhy?â
âBecause.. they were taken off.â Tord flexed his hands a little, sick of standing there.
â..Why?â Edd repeated, squinting.
Okay, now Tord was getting a little bit annoyed. Not that he didnât understand Eddâs concern, he just really didnât want to answer.
âStop asking.â Tord said, straight-faced.
Edd frowned.
Seemingly giving up on questioning Tord for now, Edd turned towards the backyard of his home. âLetâs go, then.â
The three boys were quick to follow once the brunet started walking, and they got to the outskirts of the woods pretty fast. However, Tom was kind of a slow walker.
Tord held up his own light and presented it to Edd. âDonât worry about handouts, by the way. I brought my own.â
Edd doesnât comment, opening his bag and reaching in. He pulled out a torch and handed it to Matt, who thanked him quickly.
Mattâs distraction was quickly used against him, as Tord held up his light and flashed it in Mattâs face as soon as the two werenât making eye contact anymore.
Matt squealed and pulled his palms in front of his face, attempting to shield himself. Tord flickered off the light and Matt lowered his hands, blinking a few times.
That was completely expected.
âYou are RUDE.â Matt huffed. He reached for Tordâs torch, trying and failing to snatch the device away from his mean friend.
Not that Tord was going to let him do that, though. He held the light above his head, reeling his arm backwards as well. âItâs funny.â
âItâs mean.â Matt pettily corrected, relenting and crossing his arms.
Just as Tom caught up to the group, Matt and Tord stopped bickering. Edd was quick to attempt to hand him a light, too.
Tord lowered his torch and flashed it in Tomâs face, resulting in the object being handed to him being dropped into the grass.
âHey, you MUPPET!â Tom yelped, similarly shielding his eyes behind his palms. The artificial light gave a slight reflection off of the boyâs chipped, black nail polish.
All three other teens began to snicker, because of course it was funny when it wasnât at their own expenses.
Tord switched the light off just as Tom removed his hands and gave a glare of disapproval to Edd, who instead quickly passed a similar look to Tord. He was clearly just trying to save face.
Tord frowned. âIâm just playing.â
Despite just laughing at his friend for dealing with the same thing, Matt started to whine. âMy eyes hurt, now.â
âAre we ready to go?â Tord eagerly questioned, completely disregarding Mattâs complaints.
Edd nodded, turning back toward the trees. âLetâs get going before it gets real dark. We donât want Tom getting in trouble.â
âYeah, okay. Iâm shocked he was even allowed to come.â Tord replied.
âFuck off!â Tom spat.
Tord ignored him, deciding to target Matt again. âI bet a bat is gonna shit on his head.â
The ginger in question was immediately disgusted.
âI- NO! Gross!â He shook his head.
Tord started to snicker.
Edd opted to ignore the comment entirely, holding back a few giggles of his own. Tom just looked repulsed, really.
âDude, we already know he doesnât want to be out here with us. Donât scare him off.â The boy complained sternly, crossing his arms. Tord couldnât really believe that Tom didnât find the interaction even a little funny.
He dismissively rolled his eyes, but he stopped pestering the ginger for now. He did actually want Matt here.
Edd kept leading the way, this time directly into the woods.
Considering how fast the quartet made it to the cave, a few questions had been raised about how Edd didnât find this place way sooner. It took what was probably only a couple of minutes to reach.
Seemingly without a second thought about it, Tom took a few steps toward the entrance of the cave, only for Edd to jerk out his arm in front of the other. Tom stepped back with visible confusion in his expression. âWhat?â
âThereâs two entrances,â Edd began, flicking his light on and pointing it at the cave to prove. âThatâs why I needed all four of us. We could cover more ground if we split up.â
Tom took a few moments to process, then responded with a flat tone. âOkay, Iâll go with you.â
Already, Edd was shaking his head. âNo, no. If you go with me, that leaves Matt with Tord and we both know thatâs a bad idea.â
Are you serious?
Tom seemingly didnât want to go with Tord, and Tord didnât want to go with Tom.
Edd turned his light off.
âWhy donât you take Tord, then? I could take Matt and things would be fine and dandy.â Tom suggested, quickly becoming openly annoyed.
âDo you think I enjoy babysitting?â Edd replied, a hint of snark in his tone.
Tord sighed. He didnât care that much, but Tom seemed to be getting mad quite often today. The other didnât even respond to Eddâs rhetorical question.
âListen, if Tord goes with Matt, heâs just gonna torture him. If you take Matt, I have to deal with getting flashed a bunch of timesâdonât take that out of contextâand I donât feel like going blind,â Edd crossed his arms. âYou and Tord should hang out more, anyway. Maybe itâll get you guys to not blow a gasket over every single thing the other person is doing.â
Was Tord really that irritable?
He chimed in, but not to ask about that in particular.
âOkay.. but surely there are better arrangements than that, no? What if we all just stayed in one group? This is dumb.â
âEdd already said it would cover more ground to split up,â Matt pointed out. âI donât even know why youâre arguing. Donât you like bothering Tom?â
Tord let out a scoff. âWhoâs being rude now, huh?â
âStill you.â Matt replied, matter-of-factly. âWhich is.. why weâre splitting to begin with, right..?â
Damn it, fair enough.
Tord didnât bother dignifying that with a response.
While Edd and Matt had already started walking off, Tord turned to look at Tom with a sigh. It seemed that they were definitely stuck together.
âLetâs go, bowling ball.â He hummed, following Matt and Edd until the two disappeared down one path.
âDo not call me that.â Tom snapped back, begrudgingly walking with Tord.
He was ever so slightly feistier than usual. Tord figured it was due to the flashbang.
Tom and Tord both went down the untraversed path, Tom walking a bit faster than Tord. Maybe heâd been walking slow before on purpose..
âCaves are cool.â Tord mumbled. Heâs not particularly trying to make conversation, though he wouldnât mind if it sparked something.
Tom flipped his light on with a click and waved it around slowly, just generally trying to scope out the environment. âI guess so.â
They kept walking, until Tord eventually spotted a rock and lifted it up.
Tom wasnât looking.
Still holding the stone with one hand, Tord took a moment to reconsider.
If he threw this, it would probably really hurt his ears. Heâd be expecting it, though.
But also, if he threw this, it would startle Tom and that would be really funny.
Eh, fuck it.
Tord reeled his arm back and tossed the stone in a completely random direction, immediately resulting in Tom gasping sharply and flinching. Tord swore he saw Tomâs feet come completely off the ground for a second, too.
For a few moments, Tom stood still, his eyes chalk white with fear. However, seeing the complete and total lack of reaction from the person whoâd recently been cartoonishly sensitive to loud noises, he figured out the culprit fast.
âYouâ Iâ BASTARD!â He shouted, his tone echoing through the walls. He lifted a hand and swung, but Tord had a feeling thatâd happen. He kind of just stepped aside, despite his eyes widening for a moment or two.
âDo not hit me, dude.â
Tomâs reaction was somewhat strong, but Tord would try not to hold it against him. Tom didnât react to the comment verbally, only stomping a foot against the floor.
âYouâre not funny.â Tom grumbled, turning and starting to walk again.
Tord hummed. âSure, whatever.â
As the two resumed their walk, Tom noticeably tended to linger away from the Norwegianâs side, obviously still bothered by the prank.
Until there was another thud, anyway. He stopped in his tracks and his head turned straight towards the other, his expression showing clear annoyance rather than as much fear as before. Still, his eyes became white again.
However, this time, Tord seemed properly startled, staring right back at Tom with a scowl.
Tordâs unknowing expression brought Tom from incensed to visibly horrified very fast.
â.. That wasnât me, this time.â The Norwegian whispered.
That definitely made this worse.
Tom brought his tone down pretty quickly now. âWhat do you mean that wasnât you?â
Despite how quiet he was talking, Tord could still point out particular pronunciations. Even when scared, Tom couldnât hide his rage.
Tord shrugged, smiling worriedly. âWhat the fuck do you think it means?â
They were both met with the scraping of claws, and the thuds repeated.
Shhhhhit.
Tom dropped his flashlight and that actually startled Tord, causing his own to fall to the ground as well. Not that heâd been even using it.
Tom, however, actually had been using his. The impact of itsâ land flicked the light off, and now the two were stuck in the dark.
Tord didnât waste a second, immediately reaching for Tomâs hand the best he could. He turned and just started to run, Tomâs fingers interlocked with his own.
Not wanting to lose track of the other in the dark, they were both actually squeezing rather hard.
Panic arising rather fast in both boys, they sprinted to what they hoped was the way out.
âTord, where are we going?â Tom asked, not bothering to keep his voice down anymore.
Tord actually expressed something other than shock or defensiveness, for once.
âAway from whatever the FUCK that thing is!â
It was too loud to be a bear or a wolf or any animal that Tord could think of. Too loud, too creepy. Normal animals didnât do that. If anything, theyâd hide their presence at all. Thatâs what Tord assumed, anyway.
At this point, the thuds were quite loud, and Tom ended up whipping his head around amidst the chaos, hoping to catch a glimpse of their pursuer.
âWhat the fuck is THAT?â
Terrified, Tomâs shouts quickly became full-on streaks as he managed to catch sight of.. something. Tord didnât know, all he could see was purple light emerging from behind the two.
Unfortunately, he was about to see it for himself, because the two came to a dead end. Outraged, Tord kicked the wall rather hard.
âHva slags lavbudsjettsskrekkfilm er dette TULL?â
What kind of low budget horror film is this BULLSHIT?
Right as he turned to look at the purple-eyed beast, he could see Tom throwing himself onto the floor, seemingly accepting whatever fate this creature had in store for the two of them.
It was practically right there, but not quite. It was running at them and the pounding of itsâ steps were mixed with Tomâs fearful sobbing behind him.
Left without a choice, Tord reached for his inner pocket. He never planned on using what he was grabbing at, but what else could he do? Just die?
No. Not like this. Not with the people who have kept him living all this time.
Just as the monster was a foot or so away, Tord raised his arm, handgun in his grasp. He didnât have a clue where this thingâs most vital organs are, so he goes for what he would assume to be the head.
Forced to defend himself and his frenemy, he slammed his finger down on the trigger and there was a spark that followed. The sound of the firearm going off sent a ricochet throughout their surroundings.
Tord collapsed to the floor in seconds, clasping his hands over his ears with a sharp breath of pain. He was sucking in air through clenched teeth. The gun fell to the floor right next to him. His eyes were screwed shut to the point of nearly bringing pain to his cheeks.
He didn't catch the sound of Tom's sobs coming to a quick stop, only evident by the slightest hitch of his breath.
The air was suffocating. Tord reluctantly opened an eye, then the other.
Tom was staring right at him.
Would he speak?
Tord stared back, stone-faced.
Tom didnât talk.
Silent, Tord felt around the floor until he managed to wrap his hand around the handle of the gun. He picked it up and shoved it back into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Tord looked to the body of the monster after briefly returning Tomâs blank stare again.
He didnât know what to think. It looked dead, but..
It very obviously looked like no regular animal, either. What if it was faking? Rejuvenating?
Tord wasnât going to take that chance. Not one bit.
Just like he had when he woke up, he stumbled to his feet and shakily walked over to the creature. He stood directly above it, staring at the hole that had been put through itsâ head.
He retrieved the gun from his pocket and aimed it downward, his palms sweating.
He tensed, taking a deep breath, then fired. The crimson splatters on him this time.
His head felt like it was going to fucking explode.
No matter the case, he fired again.. and again.
He was left with just two bullets. The face of the beast was unrecognizable by now.
He was mildly content with that. Nothing could survive that, right?
Tord averted his gaze to Tom, who was staring between him and the beast with teary eyes.
âWeâre leaving.â
That was barely above a whisper.
Though desperate to leave and in pain, Tord made a point not to be too rough with Tom as he yanked the other to his feet.
Carefully, Tord helped maneuver Tom around the creatureâs seemingly dead body. Unfortunately, this did mean that Tord was the one who had to step on it. It was taking up practically the entire pathway and Tord didnât want to linger behind Tom, in case something happened.
Tord had noticed a few details as he walked by the corpse, while Tom had notably refused to look at it at all after seeing Tord brutalize it like that.
It seemed to have.. a lot of limbs, and multiple eyes, too. Heâd also noticed a birdlike face on the beast, prior to the several other times heâd shot it.
On top of all of that, there were two pairs of horns. It was pretty likely that the purple light had been coming from its eyes.
Honestly, he couldnât blame Tom for screeching like that when heâd first seen it.
Speaking of Tom, he was pretty unresponsive. He allowed Tord to (sort of) lift him when they were getting past the body, but he hadnât said a word. Heâd been staring off into space since the chaos had winded down. He was only really giving off the occasional sniffle.
Tord turned around to glance at him and was met with the boy absentmindedly trying to blink away tears.
He really, seriously didnât know how to feel.
He should probably feel somethingâanything, really. He just did something insane, and something really bad almost just happened to him and his friend.
He just felt inconvenienced. His head seriously ached.
As the two were walking, they stumbled upon the dropped flashlights. Tom actually nearly tripped over them, but Tord put an arm in front of him.
He bent down, picking up both lights, then turned on Tomâs once he was back to standing straight. He pointed it forward, making it much easier for both boys to see what was going on.
Tord visibly squinted once the light was on, though.
By the time that Tom and Tord had finally escaped whatever that nightmare was, Matt and Edd were already standing there, pondering.
Edd turned to look at the two once he saw the light, which turned off immediately after.
âHey! Are you gu..â
Eddâs attempt to check in on his friends was very quickly put to a pause when he saw the bloody figures of both boys, Tomâs petrified self-presentation and Tordâs blank expression.
Matt was there too. Both looked pretty much the same, but Eddâs bag seemed fuller than usual.
There was also the visibly disturbed stares, but that was just a given.
Tord stared back at the two with pursed lips. He knew this didnât look good at all.
He averted his gaze at the last second.
â..Hei.â
Tord felt Tomâs grasp on his hand loosen. He didnât quite let go, but Tord simply noted it as.. something. At least he was doing something besides staring.
Edd was barely able to muster up anything, but he was certainly more reactive than Tom. âWhat the hell happened?â He questioned, almost frantic once he started really talking.
Tord barely skipped a beat. âI shot something in the head,â he glanced down at Tomâs hand in his own, only to be immediately sickened at the sight of blood staining it.
âFour times. I shot it four times. Neither of us know what it was. Either way, it tried to hurt us.â
âThat sounds fake.â Matt muttered, pretty shocked himself.
âI am not going to lie about a dead body that you can go and take a look at all by yourself, Matt.â Tord huffed. âI donât know. Something died and it wasnât us.â
Tom seemed to finally be coming to, because Tord caught him mumbling.
âI could have fucking died.â He cursed.
Tord didnât want to reflect on that more than he has to, so Tomâs words were quite a burden.
Edd had that look on his face that suggests that he was probably about to start speaking, or like he was trying to think over his words. He intended on siding with Matt, but Tom raised his voice before the Brit could say very much at all.
âI nearly. Fucking. DIED!â Tom yelled, finally tearing his bloodied hand out of Tordâs grasp. âAnd you-â he looked Tord up and down.
âYou had a GUN! You just- you brought a gun with you! Why?! Why did you have that?!â
He pointed a finger at Tordâs face momentarily, the Norwegian visibly cringing at his volume.
Personally, Tord thought it was a stupid decision to point a finger in the face of somebody who had a firearm, but he didnât intend on hurting anybody there anyway. Those were his friends. Fuckâs sake, he just saved one of them from certain death.
Tord sputtered. How was he supposed to explain this?
Thereâs no way he could explicitly talk about why he had the gun, not without going on a tangent about something that he never wanted anybody there to know.
No matter what he said, he was going to look bad.
âI.. I, uh.â Tord.. explained nothing. He just looked down at the grass, arms at his sides.
Tordâs complete and total lack of proper response seemed to piss Tom off even more.
âIs it yours? Why didnât you tell any of us you had it?â Tom hissed. âIt canât be yours, can it? Not legally.. weâre teenagers.â
Tord could not handle this. It wasnât that he didnât get why Tom was acting this way, but he couldnât bring himself to sympathize with it. It was just overwhelming him.
âItâsâ Itâs my dadâs.. I..â Tord looked back up from the ground, refusing to make eye contact with any of the boys for very long.
There was no way that Tom seriously thought that Tord was going to hurt him. Tord was the one who suggested they stayed in a group! Why would he do that if he was going to kill somebody? That would leave him at a massive disadvantage.
âListen. Just- listen, okay? I know that this looks really bad.. but I wasnât..â he stammered. âI wasnât thinking, alright? But- thatâs okay. Itâs fine, because it saved us when that monster back there was trying to kill us.â
That probably wasnât the greatest response, but he had a point, right?
Tom wiped his bloody palm on his jeans, scowling . âIt seems like you were going to kill somebody, ANYWAY.â
âĂ , for FAEN!â
Oh, for FUCKâS SAKE!
Tord whipped out the firearm and he watched as Tom took several steps back. He probably took this as Tord confirming his fears.
God, his fucking head hurt!
âIf murder was on my fucking agenda today, I would have already shot you!â He grumbled. Seconds later, he aimed for a nearby tree and quickly fired.
âThere is one bullet left.. One. Do you think I would purposely waste all my bullets and risk failing a murder attempt, if I actually planned to harm anyone?â
There was no way that he could ever let his father have the gun back, now.
Just barely, Tord could hear Edd and Matt talking amongst themselves. Whatever they were talking about, why couldnât they say it to his face?
âWas he planning to shoot us?â From the ginger.
âI donât think I should have left him with Tom,â Edd murmured. âIâm glad I didnât leave you with him.â
It was probably for the best that Tom seemed to not catch that last part.
Matt gulped. âIâm glad that none of us died.â He whispered
âIâm glad too.â Edd replied, only to gasp and flinch at the sound of the gun firing. He looked over and was met with Tord putting the gun back into his pocket.
âYou all think so low of me. Iâve never been mean in a serious manner. I thought you all knew I was joking. Me acting like that doesnât mean that I want to fucking kill any of my friends.â He stated, his arms back at his sides.
âI..â
Tom looked to Matt, then Edd, then Tord.
â..Am fucking going home.â He choked out, turning the other way. He stomped off, wrapping his arms around himself protectively.
Tord just stared. It was like none of them even listened to what he had to say.
Wordlessly, Edd took Matt by the arm and followed Tom out. He made a point to keep Matt in front of him, just as Tord had kept Tom in front when they were escaping the cave.
It was like they saw him as the monster.
Once the trio was decently far away from him, Tord looked to the grass and scowled. âHerregud.â My God.
Tord didnât get it. He knew he could be all sorts of antagonistic, but assuming that he would ever hurt the people he genuinely cared for and had a connection with.. that was a step too far. Were they seriously under the impression that Tord wanted to kill somebody?
Most reasonable people would want a way to defend themselves, if they were going to go into some creepy, unknown place. That wasnât the main reason that Tord brought the firearm, but why did none of the boys think that might have been it?
Maybe he should have been nicer, before. Maybe theyâd think better of him.
He gave his clothing another glance.
That blood was definitely a problem..
It wasnât really visible, not a LOT, but he knew that it would inevitably begin to stink. He needed to do something about that.
Comparing his trench coat to his shirt, it was practically invisible.
He reached for the buttons and slowly but surely buttoned it up, looking to temporarily hide the stains until he could actually wash them. That would be.. not great.
How would he even get these clean?
He would have to wait until his house was completely unoccupied, otherwise things would.. not go well.
He really didnât want to smell like a corpse, so he just accepted that he wouldnât be able to wear his coat for a bit. That suckedâit was a gift from Edd. One heâd had for awhile, too.
One more time, Tord turned around and stared at the cave.
He still had one of Eddâs flashlights.. he wasnât really sure what to do about that right now.
Heâd just keep it at home until the next time he saw Edd. That would probably be fine.
Still staring directly ahead, he considered reentering.. seeing what that whole monster thing was about. Was it the only one in there? Was it really dead?
As much as he wished to investigate further, he knew that was risky. He only had a single bullet, and now he was completely alone.
He huffed and spun around, darting towards the exit of the woods. He didnât know why he even bothered. Thereâs always something.
It had been a week since Tordâs skull splitting.
When he was pulled into his home by his father, he was of course immediately interrogated about the plaster covering the wound.
All sorts of queries about what it was, who patched it up, did he spend their money patching it up and so on.
It was debilitating and his attempts to explain what had happened didnât get him very far. Of course they didnâtâthey tended to just dig him deeper into his own grave.
When he reluctantly but urgently asked if he could see an actual doctor rather than his friendâs mother for help, he was met with a firm smack to the back of the head.
âSynes du det gjør sĂĽ vondt at noen andre mĂĽtte hjelpe? VĂŚr en mann og slutt ĂĽ la andre gjøre alt arbeidet....â
Do you think that hurts so much that someone else had to help? Man up and stop making other people do all the work.
Medical attention was off of the table, unless he planned on being questioned on the whole event by a doctor. Even that might be worse than the questioning from his papa.
***
So here he was now, at lunch with his friends, forehead still neatly wrapped in gauze.
The wound wasnât quite as bad as it had been when it happenedâthough it still pained him when he did certain things, things were much better than how itâd been during the actual incident.
Unfortunately, the gash was still very much present. Sometimes it would itch and Tord would have to resist the urge to rub at it through the bandages. The few times that he failed to restrain himself, heâd be met with a pain that was quite reminiscent of pressing on a bruise.
He sat down and tugged at the scratchy dress pants of his uniform, trying to get even the slightest bit more comfortable. He was quick to notice all three of his friends already settled at the table, tending to their respective meals.
Well, kind of. Edd seemed to be the only one actually eating, chowing down on a sandwich and occasionally glancing up from his food to look around the cafeteria.
Tom was absentmindedly staring down at a tray of food from the lunch line, giving off a slow blink every so often. He seemed to be rethinking whether or not he actually wanted the meal.
Matt didnât even have food around. It didnât seem heâd brought any, or gotten some from the lineâhe didnât even have a bag of crisps from the vending machine. Rather than actually eating, he was sipping on a box of grape juice.
Tord thought that willfully choosing not to eat was stupid. Who does that?
Tomâs choice was understandable, somewhat. The food here seemed like straight up.. âSlopâ, Edd had once called it, and Tom didnât seem all that content with being unable to just eat it.
Matt, however, seemed perfectly fine. He didnât look particularly tired or peeved, just.. there. Drinking from his juice box.
He had to have been a little bit stupid. Tord didnât feel like he was wrong to think that at times, either.
Edd decided to speak up before Tord cared to question the morality of rightfully calling out his friendâs low intelligence.
âHey, mate,â he set his sandwich down on a paper towel heâd had on the table in front of him. âHowâs your head? You alright?â
At least he was smart.
Tord wasnât all that sure how to answer the question, at first. Maybe he was the stupid one.
Regardless, he still attempted a response for the sake of his friend.
He paired an awkward grin with a thumbs up. âIt feels like shit, but Iâm fine.â
Hopefully.
Edd frowned at the response. âSorry, man.â
Frankly, Tord wasnât sure why Edd was apologizing. With that in mind, he didnât even know how to respond to it. He only hummed in return and looked towards the other two boys.
Still, Matt was sipping at what definitely should have been an empty juice box by now. That was weird, at least until he looked even slightly further and realized there was an actually empty box on the table.
Weirdo.
Tom had started to occasionally tap at the table in front of him, clearly still debating on whether or not he wanted the food. Frustration seemed to be added into the indecision, too.
Tord didnât comment on it, but it was a little bit amusing, in a weird way.
With a hum, he brought out the lunch that heâd haphazardly prepared for himself that morningâa peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He popped open the ziplock baggie heâd been using to protect it, opting to use the plastic as a makeshift platter now.
Tom stood up not too soon after, some loose cash poking out from a closed palm. Tord chose not to acknowledge how much the rustling of Tomâs bag had hurt his ears, despite the slight throb that was currently plaguing his skull due to it.
He looked up from his untouched sandwich and observed Tom as the other stormed off, posture reminiscent of a house caving in on itself.
Fair enough.
While Tom is away, Tord finally decided to eat. He put his eyes back on the sandwich, only to purse his lips and blink slowly, basically a one for one imitation of Tomâs previous gaze on the schoolâs trash food.
He doesnât even like peanut butter.
As a matter of fact, the texture really made him feel disgusting.
Why the hell did he make this sandwich?
Okay, it wasnât entirely his fault. Sneaking food was really hard as is, considering his father often passed out in the living room, right next door to the kitchen. Waking that guy up was not what Tord wanted at all. If he could prepare himself something that he actually enjoyed, something thatâd actually energize him, he would have already.
He stared down at the sandwich like it was some kind of frightened animal, ready to attack the teen if he dared to reach for it.
If he couldnât eat it, maybe someone else will..
âMatt,â he began. The ginger he addressed shot a glance over at him, awaiting further words. His pupils were strangely big. It kind of weirded Tord out, but he just continued on.
âI do not want this.â Tord said. âDo you want this?â He questioned. âEh.. Peanut butter and jelly.â
Matt looked at him, then at the sandwich. Tord almost didnât catch the shrinking of his pupils, making him look much less deer-like. âI donât like how it gets stuck to my mouth.â He gives the slightest shrug.
Damn it, thatâs the same reason that Tord didnât want it! Little copycat.
Tord gave him a deadpan stare. âThat is precisely why I do not want this either. But thereâs more jam than peanut butter, anyway.â
That would have been a valid reason for him to just eat it, but.. he still didnât feel like he could withstand it.
Matt blinked. His eyes were locked on the sandwich for a few moments, as if he was reconsidering Tordâs offer.
He still came to the same conclusion, leaving Tord peeved.
âIt, um.. itâs too sweet?â
Who the fuck turns down sweets?
Tord gave off a rather exasperated sigh, leaning far back and immediately being met with Tom walking back towards the table. He sat back up and acted like he didnât almost fall off the bench in the process.
In Tomâs hands were two thingsâA bottle of Luzocade and a bag of Walkers crisps.
Damn you, Tomâs mum. Actually giving your kid an allowance. Why couldnât his parents give him an allowance? He did help around the house when he wasnât getting in trouble for stuff, and itâs not like they couldnât afford it.
Like a moth drawn to flame, Eddâs head quickly turned to look at Tomâs snacks. This was the issue with getting food, all your friends will try to leech off of you, even if theyâre perfectly content with whatever they have.
Tord truly couldnât help but snicker at the engagement between the two, especially the pleading expression on Eddâs face that Tom seemed to completely expect from the very moment he returned to the table.
Despite the brunetâs feigned annoyance, he relented to the silent begging and tore open the bag of crisps to share a couple with his buddy. What a nice guy!
Tom really didnât actually mind, otherwise he probably would have said something.
Probably.
Thatâs what Tord assumed, at least.
While Edd was snagging a couple of Tomâs crisps, Tord decided he still really did not want his sandwich as much as he should have, and he only had one more option before he had to just tolerate it. âEeehhh.. Tom,â he leaned forward and poked the boy on his shoulder, attempting to get his attention.
âHuh?â Tom turned to look at his friend, not missing his gaze for even a moment as he yanked the Walkers bag out of Eddâs reach. He would not steal Tomâs food.
Both Matt and Tord couldnât help but laugh at the incident. It was just so.. instinctual. He didnât miss a beat.
âDo you want this?â Tord questioned, pointing down at his sandwich. âIâll trade you.. for the.. uh. Ah.â He motioned toward the Walkers bag. âThat.â
âHe hasnât ate it yet at all and he said itâs mostly jam.â Matt pointed out, not even making eye contact with any of his buddies. He was instead staring down at the texture of the tabletop, once again doe-eyed.
â..I said there was more jam than peanut butter. Not that much more.â Tord corrected, though it really didnât matter much. He just liked being right.
Matt shrugged and retrieved a third box of cold grape juice from his schoolbag. Tord canât even bother to question it, at this point.
In other news, he quickly noted the puzzlement in his void-eyed friendâs face. That was probably fair, considering it wasnât a common occurrence for Tord to offer things to people, especially not to him.
Finally though, to Tordâs luck, Tom accepted the trade offer.
âSure, hand it over.â He held his hand out, doing a âcome hereâ sort of motion with his fingers.
Relieved, Tord used the plastic bag to slide the sandwich over to Tomâs end of the table, being careful not to touch it in the process. Tom reciprocated with the bag of Walkers.
As the two thank each other and Tord reached into the crisp bag to finally chow down, he notices Eddâs gaze locked on the two of them. He seemed to be expecting something else and Tord couldnât tell what.
âDo you need something?â He questioned, quickly gaining Tomâs attention again, too. He had already taken a bite of the PB&J at that point, so he didnât say anything himself.
âWhy do you get the crisps and I donât? Iâm his best friend.â Edd complained.
Tord squinted. âIt might be because youâve already finished your own sandwich.â He said, pointing at the crumbs on the napkin that Edd had been using to shield the sandwich from the bare tabletop.
Edd glanced between the napkin and Tord for a second, then huffed. âFair enough.â
Tord laughed, and Tom had to stop eating for a moment to avoid choking on his food.
âHey, Edd.â Matt spoke, leaning over the table to stare at the addressed. Edd returned the eye contact and his feigned annoyance quickly dropped.
âWhen can we go out again? Itâs been a week.â The ginger frowned.
Tord quickly chimed in, considering he was the primary reason that the boys hadnât gone adventuring recently.
âWe havenât gone out in a week because I have a massive gaping hole in my forehead.â
That was an exaggeration, but that was how it felt.
âWhyâd you ask so gayly?â Edd jokingly replied, then quickly moved on without even commenting on Tordâs response. Matt only scoffed.
âAnyways, I do actually have something planned, but I donât know if you all will be up for it.â
Tord knew what Edd usually meant when he said something like that.
âIs it because Tomâs mumâs a wad?â
âActually, itâs becauseâ Tom, donât.â Edd didnât get to finish explaining, because Tom was reaching over the table to either slap the shit out of Tord, or to reclaim the crisps.
Edd reached out and briefly attempted to pull Tom back by the waist, only to become visibly awkward and grab his shoulder instead.
âDonât call her that. Sheâs not that. Maybe your parents are the wads, who packs their kid food that they donât even like?â Tom spat, sitting back down at Eddâs request.
Tord raised his arms as if he was actively being detained. âHey, my folks arenât wads because I just sneak out. You should try it. She canât be annoying about something she doesnât know youâre doing, can she?â He asked as if it was the most reasonable answer.
â..Also, I packed my own lunch. Like an adult. You wouldnât know what doing things like an adult is like, though.â
Tom was very visibly unamused.
âI hate when you act like this.â He replied, annoyed.
Were Tordâs words not just the truth?
He seriously didnât get why Tom got so torn up over defending someone who was admittedly kind of controlling.
âOkay, whatever. Sorry, but Iâm pretty sure Iâm just being honest. I donât lie.â
Not unless he had to, anyway.
Tom sat his mostly finished sandwich back down on the plastic bag. âYou just insulted my mother a bunch of times. I donât care how honest you think youâre being.â
Edd seemed to detect anger, considering his hands were quickly back on Tomâs shoulders, gentle but firm enough for Tom to stay in his seat.
Tord raised a brow and opened his mouth to say something else, but he only got through âI justââ before Matt intervened and cupped his palm over the boyâs mouth.
Aw.
That didnât really last long, considering that Tordâs reaction was to act like a child, licking Mattâs hand and sending the other into a slight freakout.
He yanked his hand away, shaking it and then standing up. He paced away from the table, presumably to wash his hands.
Normal day!
Edd began to laugh at Mattâs reaction, and Tom was left so confused by what just happened that he momentarily forgets how irritated heâd been over Tordâs teasing.
The giggling at Mattâs expense continued for a few moments, eventually quieting.
Until Matt returned with fresh, clean hands, anyway. The giggle fits all started back up.
âNot funny. Gross. Youâre gross, Tord!â Matt huffed, planting himself back in his seat with a soft âoofâ.
âI bet you wonât try that again.â Tom joked, leaning forward against the table. He fidgeted with his blazer buttons, then Edd spoke once more.
âHey, guys. Can I talk about the thing from before?â
Huh?
âOh. Yeah, go on. The plans?â Tomâs hands were back on his food.
Oh, yeah. That.
âLike I said, not everyone may be able to go, but I found.. A cave. I was in the woods near my house and I guess I went too far in,â Edd explained. âDonât know how Iâve never noticed it before. I hang out around it all the time..â
Tom was unsurprisingly the first to point out that whatever Edd is about to suggest is probably a bad idea.
âYouâre not going to say we should go chill in there, are you?â He frowned.
Eddâs response was a guilty smile. âI think itâd be fun. Nobody can slip and hit their heads in there, either.. That happened because of the rain.â
Tord rolled his eyes.
âI think it would be fun, too.â
Mattâs pupils shrank, considering he wasnât too fond of their last exploration trip either. âI donât want to go. I hate spiders.. and.. dark stuff.â
Tord snickered. âWimp.â
âI am not a wimp, caves arenât exactly safe.â Matt argued. âAnd I donât feel like having a spider jump on me.â
Tord hummed. âI think only a wimp would say that.â
âAnd I think you suck!â Matt snapped back, reasonably sick of being antagonized.
Tord responded with a shrug.
âYou all donât need to worry,â Edd tried to assure. âI have torches. You guys can just borrow them.â He smiled. âYou donât think any smart guy would just walk into a creepy cave without lights, hm?â
âTo be fair, Tord isnât smart.â Tom added. Probably as revenge for earlier.
Tord ignored that comment, despite it actually making him pause for a moment.
âOkay, well Iâm up for it. Even if itâs just us, Edd.â He laid his head down on the table next to his now empty bag of crisps.
âQueer.â Edd replied.
Tord stammered. âThatâs not even- I donât care.â
Edd frowned, unsatisfied with Tordâs mostly indifferent response.
Soon enough, lunch ended and they all had to get back to their classes. The day went on as it always did, and all four boys returned home.
***
Tord took light, slow steps into his home, eyes darting around the front room. He seemed to be checking for something, checking for someone.
He quickly realized that, to his luck, his pappa was not yet home from wherever heâd gone today.
He had time. Not a lot, but time.
He paced down the hall and made a sharp turn for the bedroom of his parents. Well, his pappa, at least. Mamma slept on the sofa, unshockingly.
He pushed the door open with an excruciatingly slow, loud, head-piercing creak. He audibly winced at the sound, despite almost completely expecting it. It just.. sounded higher pitched than usual.
He could honestly barely handle the cafeteria today, and some obnoxious, self-proclaimed class clown had also screamed near him during one lesson. There was always someone like that in his classes, and it was a nightmare. He only acted that way around his friends.
Trying to just get this over with, he took only a glance or two around the room before storming over to the closet and opening it. Heâs swiftly met with his mammaâs clothes strewn about the floor, and the only things that were hung up were shirts that his pappa hadnât worn in a long, long time.
This was going to be miserable.
He began to rummage through different items, pulling boxes down from the shelf at the top of the wardrobe.
Just find the flashlight. Find it so you donât have to borrow Eddâs. It canât be that hard. Donât make someone else do things for you. What if you lose it or it breaks? Heâd be so mad.
Tord kept digging through his parentsâ belongings.
He still couldnât fucking find the light and pappa would be home any moment now, he knew it.
Just as he managed to pull down one more box, he heard the clanking of a doorknob.
Faen.
Fuck.
Just as the front door opened, Tord finally retrieved the flashlight. He didnât have time to replace everything, so he just stormed out of the room.
..Only for his father to stop him in his tracks.
âHva i helvete tror du at du gjør pĂĽ rommet mitt?â
What the hell do you think youâre doing in my room?
âAh, pappa..â
Tord held the torch behind his back as his mouth curled into a frightful grin.
He completely lacked an excuse, so he fell silent completely. Tage yanked him by the arm, further away from the bedroom.
âNysgjerrig liten jĂŚvel.â Nosy little bastard. His father spat, slamming the teen against the wall. âHvorfor var du der inne? Hva tok du med deg? Fortell meg.â Why were you in there? What did you take? Tell me.
Tord was immediately dizzy upon impact.
âĂ , Gud..â Oh, God. He whimpered. That fucking hurt.
He could smell the liquor on his fatherâs breath, and it caused immediate nausea.
âSlutt ĂĽ grĂĽte og svar meg, gutt!â Stop crying and answer me, boy! Tage demanded.
âJeg lĂĽnte en lommelykt slik at jeg kunne gĂĽ ut med vennene mine..â I was borrowing a flashlight so I could go out with my friends. Tord replied, eyes half lidded. Frankly, he was sick of this. His father made a fuss out of every fucking thing on the planet, and for what? Tord didnât do anything.
âDine venner?â Your friends? His father questions in disbelief. âJeg trodde du skadet hodet ditt, sønn.â I thought you hurt your head, son. He let go of Tord, practically dropping him to the floor in the process.
Ow, ow. Ow..
Tord knew what was next.
âAlt bedre, nĂĽ?â All better, now? He asked, fake-sweetly. He pulled a smile.
âNa.â No. Tord shook his head. His tone was notably flat.
He didnât usually sass his father, not like this.
âHva i HELVETE gjør du, da?â What the HELL are you doing, then? Tage snatched up Tord again, holding him against the wall by his shirt. Tordâs sudden grey-rocking must have struck a nerve.
Tord let out a gasp, only to slowly blink once he processed what was happening. âPrøver ĂĽ leve livet mitt.â Trying to live my life. He croaked. âI motsetning til deg.â Unlike you.
Why was he acting like this? He usually never did. He always wanted to, but.. acting on it was like asking to face massive consequences.
Consequences he would receive.
Tageâs grasp quickly moved to Tordâs throat, squeezing with relative ease. Was this nothing to him? Because it was something to Tord.
âFørst later du som om du er skadet. Du stjeler fra meg, og prøver ĂĽ snike deg ut. NĂĽ snakker du som om jeg pĂĽ en mĂĽte er problemet. Hvem er du til ĂĽ snakke til meg som om jeg er den dĂĽrlige personen nĂĽr alt du gjør er ĂĽ utnytte meg for bekvemmelighetens skyld?â
First, you fake an injury.. You steal from me, and you try to sneak out. Now, you're talking like I'm somehow the problem. Who are you to talk to me like I'm the bad person when all you do is use me for convenience?
Tage adjusted his grip, then his palm began to tighten around the throat of his son.
âJeg vet hva du sier til vennene dine. Du kan fortelle dem hva du vil om meg, men vit at du ikke fortjener sympatien deres. Hvis du vil fortelle dem at du er sĂĽret sĂĽ mye, kan du klage over dette.â
I know what you tell those friends of yours. You can tell them whatever you want about me, but know you don't deserve their sympathies. If you want to tell them you're hurt so bad, you can complain about this, next.
Tord had begun to curse and claw and squirm before Tage even finished talking. Every attempt to pull away results in his throat being squeezed even harder. His thin body twitched and quivered in the older manâs grasp.
âP-Pappa, jeg bekla-a-ger..â Dad, Iâm sorry. He wheezed, reaching a hand up. He futilely grabbed at his fatherâs aged hand, desperate to pull his fingers apart. He was barely even thinking about what he was doing, focused on survival above all else.
âDet vil du bli.â His father mocked.
You will be.
Tordâs poor head felt tense. He felt immense pressure on his chest and the flashlight heâd been hiding had dropped to the floor long ago, by now.
He attempted to gasp for air, to swallow, to speak, anything that would pull even a single speck of oxygen back into his aching lungs. He didnât even have the energy to cry, only giving off dry sobs.
Stop. Stop. Stoppe. Please stop you canât fucking do this to me WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME HVA GJORDE JEG GALT JEG HATER DEG FAN DEG DU VIL DĂ EN DAG OG INGEN VIL SAVNE DEG.
All he could think is how much he despised the man above him, about how he longed for something, ANYTHING better than this.
His vision blurred. His quivering started to slow.
Was it over? Was he done?
Tord wouldnât know.
Finally, but probably too late, Tordâs limp, frail body collapsed to the floor, let go of like it was nothing. Like a cat knocking over a vase.
Something fragile shattered in seconds, immediately forgotten about by the perpetrator.
He paused, turning around to wave goodbye to his friends. To his astonishment, Tord was nowhere to be seen. He was.. just there. Where did he go?
He blinked slowly, gazing around before spotting a few tufts of chocolate brown hair sticking out from behind a tree.
Oh. That added up. He probably should have guessed that. Either way, Tom knew that Tord didnât exactly.. like his mum. He wouldnât have wanted to be forced to engage with her if not necessary, especially not like this.
The two that remained visible, Edd and Matt, remained shoulder-to-shoulder. Tom could catch Edd repeatedly side-eyeing Tordâs hiding spot.
He gave a forced chortle, then waved at the three other boys (even if he couldnât even see one of them). Edd waved back cheerfully and Matt shouted, âBye!â
Tom noted that Matt doesnât say any names, though itâs a given that he could only be addressing that to Tom. It was strange to him that he could even recognize such a specific detail.
He did a U-turn to face the door again, wrapping his hand around the doorknob, then fell silent.
He could still hear them talking, and the air felt.. full. It was difficult for him to understand, but he knew.
Not that he understood a single word, but he could tell that they were still nearby, and they surely didnât sound like they were moving any farther away.
He whips around and the three are still standing there.
âGet lost or my mum will chase you out with a knife!â Tom whisper-shouted, honestly just joking, but he needed to get the boys to leave somehow. He points in the opposite direction of his house. It would be a disaster if Bailey Reyes opened that front door and was met with three teenage boys watching from a distance.
Luckily, they seemed to heed his warning. Edd was obviously in a rush to get Tord some medical attention anyway, so Tom watched as the brunet took Tord and Matt by their arms to drag them away from the home. The visual of them running away emulated scattering ants. He couldnât help but grin at the mental comparison.
Phew.
He turned around and actually, finally opened the door this time, stepping into the house. He delicately closed the front door behind him, suddenly feeling quite suffocated by the air of his own living room.
Heâs never understood why it feels that way. Sure, his mum was.. overprotective, surely clingy. He couldnât really deny that. That wasnât really bad though, was it? Werenât all parents supposed to be that way?
At least she cared about him. At least she was around. There were more than likely so many people at his school and in his town who didnât have present guardians. Tom was .
Sliding that thought into the corner of his brain for now, he glanced around the surrounding area. First the small living room in front of him, then the nearby doorway of the kitchen.
Was she even home? She hadnât gotten worried and gone searching for him herself, right?
He didnât even see or hear her.
His shoulders sinking, he turned back around to check that the door was locked. Not locking it might really, actually get him in trouble for once. Though, that one was probably understandable.
Upon being sure that nobody could just walk in, he turned back around.
âTassa!â
Oh.
Somehow, heâd completely missed Baileyâs rapidly approaching footsteps. He wasnât sure how he managed. Maybe he was just.. out of it. Earlier was a lot.
Regardless, now he had to talk to her.
âOooohhh.. Hi, mum.â Tom began to smile nervously as he was tugged away from the door. His mother shimmied Tomâs bag off of his shoulders and stepped over to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter. Tom knew that she intended on foraging it within the next few minutes.
âTass, you're late.â Bailey pointed out, sounding mildly peeved. Though, it was clear that she was trying to hide.. something. Tom could tell that it was probably worse than an inconvenience to her.
âWhat?â He blurted out. He hadnât been late, had he?
Concerned, his gaze darted to the clock right above the front door.
To Tomâs dismay, she was right. He was late.. by five minutes.
Bailey didn't seem to actually register that the boy had already checked the time to confirm her statement, as she retrieved a very old, though very polished looking pocket watch from the breast pocket of her shirt. She held the object up to her son's face almost begrudgingly. Though Tom didn't voice it, he felt like she just asked him if he was stupid.
Tom was now noticing that Bailey hadnât even changed out of her scrubs. That was uncommon. Was she so preoccupied with her fears that she couldnât even take a few minutes to change into her casual attire?
âTassy, you.. you know how I feel about you hanging around boys so much, and for so long. It worries me. You never know what could happen..â Bailey visibly tensed. Tom couldn't see where she was looking with her eyes, but her head clearly tipped towards the tile flooring for a moment or so.
He somehow managed to withstand the urge to cave in on himself with every word that emitted from his dear old motherâs lips.
âI know,â he mumbled. âIâm sorry, I don't.. want to scare you, mum. I wouldn't let anything happen.â
Bailey, listening to Tom's sad attempt at relaxing her, slid her pocket watch back into its' usual spot.
She didn't even really respond to his words, resuming her ranting as she pulled Tom's arms away from his sides. Delicately, but thoroughly, she began to pat down Tom around the upper waist. She eventually stops this and moves on to rummaging through his pockets instead.
Tom didn't really get it. It wasn't that Bailey didn't have valid reasons to be concerned for her son, but he'd never really been caught sneaking things in or out of their household. He'd never stolen, either. He just wasn't like that.
Though, with how often his mother implied that he might be, sometimes he considered doing it just for the sake of letting her be right about something.
He wasn't really listening to whatever she was talking about right now, at least not until he felt the checking come to a longer pause. He knew what that meant.
He really hated this part. Like, really hated it, but he didn't want to worry his mum.
Worriedly, Bailey grabs Tom's left arm, maneuvering it for him rather than just letting him do it himself.
âTake your blazer off and roll your sleeves up.â She murmured. As always, Tom accedes.
She scanned her eyes over Tom's now exposed forearm, seemingly looking for something. Her fingers skid over old scars and as usual, she didn't openly acknowledge the slight recoil of her child.
Finding nothing, she sighed in early relief. She takes the time to fix the sleeve and the motions are repeated on Tom's right arm.
Again, there was nothing new. Just old hypertrophic scars.
He never liked people looking at them. Especially not her, but she.. had to.
The searching eventually came to an end, at least for now. Tom didn't really know what would happen nextâhe assumed she'd send him to his room and search his bag.
She hugged him.
Oh.
For only a second, Tom was a bit startled. It doesn't take him long to reciprocate, though.
He didn't protest and he didn't try to pull away, only dropping his arms back to his sides when Bailey pulled away first.
Not many words were exchanged between the two as Bailey turned to grab Tom's schoolbag from the counter, moving it onto a barstool.
The older woman unzipped the bag, pulling it open as wide as she could without damaging it.
Tom watched as she meticulously sifted through his journals and his school assignments and his bag pockets and even his pencil cases. Nowhere on that bag was left unsearched.
Actually, there was one place, a place that Tom would not dare give a single pointer to.
For ages now, there'd been a small, nearly undetectable tear in the bottom corner of his bag. Ever since he'd found it while cleaning up, it had been a makeshift pocket. Admittedly, he couldn't put much in there without being found out, but that was okay. He had very little to hide.
Bailey sat the bag down and began to replace everything, putting everything exactly where it should be. Tom was thankful for that. He wouldnât have had the time to reorganise everything himself, had she left it to him.
She closed the bag, lifted it and holds it out to her child. âAll clear today.. good.â She stated, so soft-spoken despite the slight pang of discomfort the words left in Tomâs gut. He took the bag and in the brief moment that he was adjusting his grip on it, Bailey reached out to stroke his hair lovingly.
Tom swore he could feel needles as sharp as pine in his throat. He doesn't notice his own flinch.
âYour hairâs growing out.â His mother cooed.
Itâs really not as endearing as she would like it to sound.
Please don't get emotional.
Often, when she noticed details such as Tomâs growth, she quickly became a blubbering mess. It was like she couldnât help but start bawling as soon as it hit her that her child would one day be just as old as she currently was.
Itâs not like Tom liked to think about that, either. That seemed so far off from now. The thought of growing older and having to do things on his own would render him thoughtless. Heâd just go blank.
He was slinging his bag over his shoulder when Bailey suddenly tensed again.
âTassa, youâre bleeding!â
What?
Tom blinked rather quickly, his eyes white as chalk. Heâs bleeding? That canât be right. He hadnât gotten hurtâ
Wait.
He looked over at his mother, who was pointing towards the midsection of his skirt, sort of around his thighs.
Tomâs not given much of a chance to explain or process whatâs happening before Bailey is coddling him again.
âAre you hurt?â She questioned, kneeling down to study the spot with delicate hands.
Itâs off-colour.
So off-colour, in fact, that Tom was left to wonder how he didnât immediately notice it. Better yet, how come the other boys didnât point it out? Did they not notice either? Were they messing with him? How could they all miss that?
Bailey had returned to her second step of the routine; body checking.
Despite how unsettled she reasonably was, she was clearly reluctant as she started to feel around the location of the blood. Her eyes were on Tomâs face, as if she was waiting for him to give some sort of signs of pain.
Tom looked just as puzzled as her, if not more. Part of it was feigned confusionâhe knew who the blood came from, after all, and it certainly hadnât been him.
His lack of response makes Bailey even more paranoid, however.
âAre you hurt?â She repeated her previous question, her expression visibly becoming more frightened with every second that she stared at the bloodstained fabric.
Momentarily speechless, Tom shook his head. That seemed to only marginally soothe his mother.
She looked her son up and down, taking his answer with a grain of salt. It was unclear for a few moments if she was still worried about a nonexistent injury, or if she was trying to find something else to point out. Inexorably, that query was answered.
âWhose blood is it?â
Tom couldnât stop himself. âTordâs.â
âWhat?â Bailey canât quite halt herself either.
There was little that she knew about Tord. She knew his name, what he looked like, that he was a boy.. and that was it. Frankly, she didnât want to know more. She didnât want her child becoming too fixated on anyone, so sheâd rather just not ask.
âIt was raining and he slipped and hit his head. I helped him up.â
That was only partially a fib. Tord had hit his head, but Tom had stood there and watched as Edd and Matt assisted him instead.
Frankly, he felt.. guilty. He didnât help Tord at all, and now heâd lied about it to his poor, worried mother. It was like he was on a roll today, willfully making shameful decisions. Was he selfish? Was he just protecting himself?
He wasnât sure.
âAnd that's how you got blood on your clothes?â
â..Yes.â
He felt clawing at his throat. There was an unmistakable loathing that he felt in the seconds following his small lies.
She took a few moments, but Bailey did eventually muster up a response to Tomâs fib.
âIâm glad that you werenât hurt.â
She doesnât suspect anything.
That just made Tom feel worse.
Like a couple of minutes before, Tom is drawn back into his motherâs grasp, actually being the first one to reach for the other this time. She patted his back reassuringly, then raised a hand to his head to stroke his hair once more.
âYou know how careful you have to be, Tass. You.. youâre fragile.â
Tom merely leaned back into the touch of her soft, ever-aging palms.
Despite everything that just happened, this was quite comfortable.
She was warm. She still smelled strongly of disinfectant and antiseptic. That was a little unpleasant, but it made him feel.. clean, too.
âI love you, Tassa.â She murmured.
Tomâs stomach churned.
âI love you, mum.â Tom replied, finally pulling back from the hug. She looked disappointed with his absence. Her dejected eyes almost coerce Tom into returning, but he couldnât. Not right this second, at least.
âI have to do homework,â he stated. âIâll be out for dinner soon.â
She beamed and patted his head, seemingly satisfied with his excuse. âYouâre so responsible.â
Sure.
He stepped back, turned around and then made his way to his room. The stroll up the stairs was heavy and felt awfully louder than it actually was, but relief still washed over him as he made his way into his bedroom.
He looked around and everything was clean. Tom was lucky that his hiding spots were in that bag rip, or heâd be totally doomed.
The cleanliness did explain why Bailey hadnât even changed clothes yet. She was busy with this, instead.
He closed his door behind him. He always considered locking it, though that was probably not the best idea. So, as usual, he walks away before he gives in to the suggestion.
After stepping over to his bed and setting down his schoolbag, he fiddled around until he found the hiding spot. That tear.
It took a few moments, but he fished out a slightly used Nokia cell phone. He was shocked heâd ever managed to get ahold of these things.
Bailey had no clue he had one. The truth is, Edd had managed to rake up enough cash from his allowances to purchase a phone for Tom. Tom.. wasnât really allowed to have a phone, otherwise there would have been little issue with Bailey paying for the device on her own.
Tom had initially rejected the offer, but Edd kindly insisted. Neither Tord or Matt had phones, but unlike Tom, it was simply due to the expenses.
He powered it on and stared back at his light reflection in the screen.
He only had one contact on his cell; Edd.
As expected, considering his mother had no idea this phone existed. Had Matt and Tord gotten ahold of personal phones, they would have (probably) been there, too.
Tord was less likely.
He started to spell out a message. Miserably slowly, but he did eventually get the words out to his friend.
âHi,â was the first thing he sends. After not too long, another text goes through.
âIs Tord okâ.
He felt so wrong for asking, but it wasnât like the teen wasnât one of his mates. They just never happened to be particularly close.
Besides, that guy literally split his forehead open on a rock. Most people would be pretty concerned about that, even if the injured person wasnât their friend.
Thatâs sort of just a given. It doesnât need to be thought over very much.
Like Tom, it took a minute, but Edd got back to him on that question.
âheyâ.
âtord is fine i thinkâ.
âmy mum fixed him up n gave a rideâ.
Heâs okay. Thatâs good, thatâs.. awesome.
He felt a little less shitty. He probably wouldnât have lived it down if Tord was doing bad right now.
âOhâ.
âThats goodâ.
His relief isnât all that apparent, though.
âWe should probz wait 4 sum time b4 hanging out againâ.
Tom was a bit unsure when he sent that last message, but he felt that Edd would agree. Edd tended to be the most level-headed, so it would be weird if he suddenly went against the tide.
âya sameâ.
Tom sighed in relief.
âHe got blood on me,â is his next message.
âoh noâ.
âare u in troubleâ
Edd was understandably concerned.
âAlmost I thinkâ.
There was a brief second between his own response and awaiting Eddâs that he heard approaching footsteps. Expectedly, he flinched and turned the phone off, sliding it beneath himself. It was only mildly uncomfortable.
To his luck, the sounds had gone past his room, instead entering the bathroom.
He sighed and retrieved the phone, keeping in mind that he might have to hide it again within the next two or three minutes.
âwut happened,â was the message that came next.
âMum was worried I got hurtâ.
âI told her I helped him upâ.
âu didnât though,â Edd swiftly pointed out. âu kind of just stood thereâ.
He wasnât being mean. Just honest.
âIk,â Tom sighed as that message was sent. âI will say sorry 2 him tmrwâ.
âgood,â Edd sent back.
âI have 2 do hw now and then have dinnerâ.
âare u going 2 sleep afterâ
âProbablyâ.
âgood night thenâ.
âGn Eddâ.
Tom stared at his cell phone for another moment, then powered it back off. He reached for his bag and slid the device back into its regular hiding spot, just as he heard footsteps coming past his room again.
He could never be caught with this.
Tom had gone about the rest of his evening as usual. Homework, then dinner, then he got ready for bed. He always had to be up early.
He couldnât quite get what happened earlier off of his mind.
Not his motherâs concern, he was quite used to that, but the whole business of his friend getting so hurt. How simple it appeared for him to go on like it was nothing. Was it that easy?
He assumed that Tord was just putting on a tough guy act. That seemed like a reasonable explanation for the refusal of medical attention. Not wanting to seem like a pussy, or something. Someone at school finding out you were sent to the hospital when you already have a not great reputation isnât exactly.. good.
It was understandable.
Ehhh.. No, it wasnât. Not even âtough guysâ just avoid getting treatment for a gaping cut in their forehead. They could just find a way to keep it secret, right?
But that had to have hurt badly.
Tom was smart enough to at least know that, but he recalled how insistent Tord was on not receiving help. It was so confusing. Were all guys like this?
Strange.
As Tom changed his clothing to a simple T-shirt and shorts to wear to bed, he just hoped nothing like that happened again. He truly wasnât sure if he could handle that.
âCome on, mate, she canât let it slide this once?â
This was a conversation often had in Tom Reyesâ day-to-day life. His matesâprimarily his closest, Edd, would invite him out and heâd have to turn them down. It got frustrating, but Tom would have to tolerate it. What else could he do? Sneak out and get grounded? No way.
With the way Edd looked so sad as he tried to urge Tom into disobeying his mother, he almost wanted to, but he couldnât totally relent now as he stood in the phone booth. âI.. Guess I can call her.â he tried to negotiate out loud. He stood there for a moment, fiddling with the cord of the payphone.
At his silence, Edd brushed his hair out of his face, reached into his pocket and whipped out about ten quid. He handed it to Tom with the slightest smile, who simply nodded as a thank you.
He inserted the currency into the booth and dialed the number. His heart was already pounding at this point. He hated conversations like these, but he hated letting his friends down, too.
He could hear those friends chit-chatting over the sound of the phone ringing.
âThis is wasting our time, I feel.â Tord commented. That guy was really annoying, at times. He could be worse, but Tom never fully understood why Edd had chosen to befriend that.. bum.
âDonât say that! Itâs not his fault that his mumâs..â Tom couldnât tell if Edd was trying to avoid insulting his mother or if he just wanted Tord to fill in the blank.
âA wad?â
âThatâs mean!â Nearby, Tom could hear his friend Matt jump to the defense of his mother.
âItâs true.â Tord argued.
Tom shushed the Norwegian rather loudly just as his call was finally picked up.
âTassy, is that you?â A hushed, feminine voice beamed through the phone. Tom hated that nickname. Simply too babyish.
âMummm..â He squeakily replied, cracking a rather forced smile. He could hear Tord snickering nearby, as if heâd been able to hear exactly what was being said on the other end of the line. To be fair, considering how many times this specific scenario happened, all he really had to do was guess.
The conversation following the interaction was typical. Lots of back and forth, Tomâs mother repeatedly warning him about the dangers of being out late and begging him to be home early until Tom eventually squeaked out an âOkay! I love you! Bye!â and slammed the phone back into place.
***
The trudge to the forest was long and tiresome, taking up quite a bit of the time that Tom was even allowed out. It began raining pretty early into the walk too, so the boys were now either holding their schoolbags over their heads or sinking within their scratchy, uncomfortable uniforms in an attempt to shield themselves. Neither did too much to help, and those wearing their bags as hats were more than likely just getting their homework soaked rather than truly protecting themselves from the weather.
It hadnât helped that their school-mandated shoes were not made to handle this sort of disordered weather, and the hard breeze had caused Tomâs skirt to flow backwards multiple times. He was cold. This was terrible.
Eventually, the boys arrived and quickly ducked under some trees. Like the bag shields and thin dress shirts, this did little to fix their situation.
They stood in front of an old, rundown looking building. Itâd been condemned years ago by the looks of it, the windows and door boarded over with wooden planks. The address number was missing. It was unclear why this random house sat alone in the woods, left to rot, but at least it gave these outcasts a way to spend their free time.
âThis place gives me the creeps.â Matt complained. Tom dismissively rolled his eyes, though he wouldnât admit that agreed with the statement himself.
Edd took a few steps towards the abandoned building and Tord slowly followed. Edd was attempting to lead despite how creepy this place was, while Tord barely seemed to acknowledge how peculiar the general situation had been.
The ringleader did eventually get the other three to follow him inside, though he had to be the one to yank the boards away from the door, spiking the risk of splinters making their way into his palms. The four were met with rainwater soaking the rotted hardwood floors, and it didnât take long for them to come to an understanding of exactly how that happenedâalong with the likely reason this nightmare was condemned to begin with.
The ceiling had caved in, leaving a giant, gaping hole above the four.
Tom scowled while Tord laughed in what was most likely shock. By now, Matt had already walked backwards in an attempt to exit the creepy scenario, but Edd grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back. âCome on, you canât be the only one who backs out. That wouldnât be fair!â He protested.
Edd likely meant it sincerely, but Tom overheard and found it pretty condescending. None of them wanted to be here, whatever made Edd think this place was cool was beyond Tomâs ability to figure out.
The boys ended up looking around for a while. Tord looted rooms, Edd was his typically nosy self and Matt clung to the other teen like a lost puppy, which Edd didn't seem to mind too much, even if he didnât particularly enjoy Mattâs grasp. Tom just.. Meandered. He wasnât sure what to do here, everything felt prohibited. Probably because he never specified to his mother that this is why he needed extra time with his buddies.
Within the next thirty minutes, rain still pouring outside and through the giant pit in the roof, the boys circled back to the front door, Tord holding what looked to be a small nightstand. Tom raised a brow at the sight.
âWhat is that?â He questioned.
âThis?â Tord motioned towards the object with his head and Tom nodded, expression deadpan. âFor my room.â He shrugged in response.
Tomâs eyes circled around the boy in front of them, looking to find out what else he had snatched from the decaying building, if anything at all. He did notice something poking out of Tordâs bag, but he didnât feel as if it was truly worth commenting on. It was probably just his blazerâheâd taken it off as the four left school today.
âAre we going, then?â Matt asked, sounding relieved to finally be leaving this place. He appeared utterly terrified, his pupils darting around the trashed living room in the brief moment it took for a response.
Edd gave a nod and began to trot back towards the front door, fully expecting the others to follow. His expectations were justified, considering the other three shuffled behind him fast. None of them wanted to be there, just as Tom thought. Matt was visibly horrified, Tom was simply unnerved and Tord probably knew better than to be hanging around a place like this for too long.
Edd was already starting to basically float in the direction they came from, but Tom noted that it was getting dark and had to stop him. âHey, mate. My mumâs expecting me, you know,â he started. âCould we maybe.. Take a different way? A faster way?â
That was probably a reasonable request.
Edd stopped, looked at his wristwatch, then shrugged. âLead the way.â
So, Tom did exactly thatâto the best of his ability, anyway. He took his friends in the same general direction that they were going anyway, but there were a few different turns, as expected. They came upon a hill that was just a little flooded from the previous downpour, the ground muddy and probably dangerous if someone stepped the wrong way.
Tom walked slowly down it like a smart person, staring up at the others and waiting for them to follow him. He walked backwards slightly.
Edd followed, but on the way down, he slammed a foot down on a stray leaf and went sliding. His schoolbag landed on a rock and he just barely managed to grab onto a tree before he got the chance to fall the rest of the way down, though Tom could just barely catch the sound of him wincing as he gripped the bark. He probably scraped his hands.
His expression said quite enough, and Mattâs did, too. While both looked quite startled, Matt seemed to be worse off, despite not being the one whoâd nearly needed a hospital trip.
Edd stared up at the ginger, gave a nervous chuckle and carefully stepped the rest of the way over to Tom, legs quivering. âJust be careful,â he advised. âItâs.. slippery.â He collected his schoolbag with a sigh.
Matt took that advice a bit too seriously, practically tiptoeing his way down the little hill as slowly as possible. At least this assured that he wouldnât bust his skull open.
While Matt successfully avoided getting hurt, Edd shook the mud off of the bottom of his schoolbag.
Tord did not have the same luck as his freckle-faced friend, and that was pretty much the boyâs own fault.
He stepped down too fast, or maybe too hardâwhatever the case may be, he slipped and the table heâd been carrying went flying into the tree that Edd had previously used to save himself. Tord didnât notice this because he immediately rammed his skull into a rock with an agonizing crunch.
Ohhh.. that was bad.
He laid there with a face-full of mud for a good ten seconds and the other three boys were starting to think they might have just witnessed the death of their best friend, horrified gasps leaving all threeâuntil he gave off the slightest twitch, then he groaned and rolled onto his back.
The three stared at him, utterly shocked.
Luckily, he was awake. Not so luckily, blood was gushing out of his forehead, comparable to squeezing a strawberry.
Edd, being his usual caring self, didnât waste time after coming to a general understanding of what had just happened. He dropped his bag at Tomâs dress shoes, practically tripping over himself to get to his horn-haired buddy.
âAre you okay?â he urgently raised the question. âMatt, get over here!â He demanded, his eyes still on Tordâs spouting forehead. Matt rushed over and assisted Edd with pulling Tord to the road, where Tord shakily sat up to lean against Tomâs leg.
Given the situation, Tom managed to not start complaining. He couldn't help but awkwardly grab the front of his skirt and lift it though, grimacing softly as the wind hit his skin.
âSsss⌠Sorry.â Tord choked out, obviously for the blood that was getting everywhere. Tom was at a loss for words. This boyâs head was literally a fountain of gore and one of his first instincts was to apologize. Why?
Edd was attempting to hide his panic, but he couldnât exactly manage that well when his friend was talking what he saw as abysmal nonsense. âAre you loony?â He rhetorically questioned, kneeling down and sifting through his bag.
After a moment, he paused and slipped off his blazer, pressing it against Tordâs forehead in an attempt to temporarily cork the wine bottle that was Tordâs forehead. Tord visibly pulled away, but Edd begrudgingly tugged him back.
ââM fine.â the teen insisted. Matt protested this claim with a quick, aggressive shake of his head.
âWe need to call 999!â Edd loudly protested on the verge of shouting, watching as his blazer soaked up the blood covering Tordâs face. He didnât care about the mud or the gore ruining his clothingâhe could buy a new one, or literally just toss it in the washer. Tord mattered more right now.
Tord, however, actually gave a coherent response to this. âNnnno, noâ I a-am fine.â he stressed. Tom was put off, but Edd honestly seemed to have it covered. Itâs not like he would be useful here at all, anyway. Tom getting involved would just cause more problems, and they all knew it.
âYouâre spouting blood like a water fountain because you cracked your head open on a stone. We need to call somebody. You could get a concussion or worse.â Edd argued.
âIt looks way worse th-than it actually is, really. Iâm fine. Itâs j-just because itâs.. my head, you know,â he mutters. âItâs alright. Just.. Just..â he paused, searching for the words, then shook his head.
Edd was conflicted. He couldnât go against his friendâs wishes, but his friend was also independently turning the asphalt into a horror fanaticâs wildest dreams.
His other friend also really needed to get home, or his mother would be so very upset, especially if she ever came to know what was happening right now. She'd probably ground him for weeks.
Thinking this over, he reluctantly nodded. Tom noticed a soft gulp from the other.
âYou donât want gauze or anything, at least? We could go to my house after Tttt.. Tom is home.â
âIâll take care of it.â
Edd couldnât protest further, his expression somewhat stone-like. What was he thinking?
He stood up, but he gripped Tord by the arm and yanked the other to his feet too. Despite Tord insisting that he was okay before, heâs twitching.
The Norwegian spotted the now broken bedside table that heâd been planning to use to furnish his bedroom, and that seemed to overshadow the scariness of the blood that was currently still rolling down his forehead in fast, thick beads.
âAre you serious?â Heâs genuinely disappointed. âI dusted it off for nothing..â
His tone was gaining weight with every word. He was out of it, for sure.
âIâm sure you can find something else,â Edd tried to reassure. âOh, oh. I can probably buy yââ
Thanks to an apprehensive Tom, Edd never finished his offer.
âCan we go home?â Tom interrupted, unintentionally snappy and tense. The other three boys stare directly at him.
As he makes eye contact with the other three, mainly the still-bleeding Tord, he sinks into his uniform out of shame. He grips onto the hem of his blazer.
âSorry.â
Edd doesnât really acknowledge the apology. âUh.. yeah. We should go.â
They all knew why Tom was acting like that. Even Tord didnât start poking fun this time, though that could easily be attributed to the obvious fact that he had much higher concerns at the moment.
So they collected themselves and started walking back, all in variously unpleasant moods.
âThis probably wouldnât have happened if I actually kept up with the weather station.â Edd remarked, mainly to himself, but he wasnât trying to hide what he was saying.
âNot your fault.â Tord muttered.
As usual, Tom was home first and he rushed inside while Tord hid behind a tree, hoping to conceal his wound from the woman that nobody there (besides Tom) truly liked all that much. Matt left next, and only Edd and Tord remained.
Tord was brought to Eddâs home and Edd patched him up the best he could without just bringing him to a hospital, despite Tordâs protests. Edd cared too much to just let him bleed all the way home. What kind of friend would let that happen without at least trying to help?
Eddâs mother drove the boy home after, where he only vaguely answers her questions about how heâs doing at home and with his classes. She suggested he started to look for work, which wasnât a bad idea. She gave him advice about secondary school and how to navigate it better, mainly regarding the people around him. It was no secret that Eddâs group wasnât exactly liked by most of the schoolâs population.
She was just trying to make small talk, because the giant gauze patch on the teenâs forehead made her quite nervous. Wouldn't it spook anyone?
Tord was eventually dropped off, where he wandered up to the veranda with buckling legs. Eddâs mother had driven off before she got the chance to see a mildly aged, large hand drag the boy inside by the collar of his dress shirt.
All four boys go to bed that night with different thoughts, mostly surrounding the events of the past day.
Tord doesnât really sleep well, nor does Tom. Not that it was really out of the ordinary.
Though, compared to what would soon come, theyâd miss how close that day was to normalcy.
