Emotions ran wild, the ability to control them grew harder and harder each passing day. Holding a positive outlook on himself was a struggle for Edd, both in his appearance and art and with the departure of his once Norwegian friend ( abrupt and contact completely cut ) only weighed the heaviness on his heart. Chest ached at the sheer thought of his old friend that no longer lived in the home he shared with a few others. The wounds fresh in his minds, Edd hid in his room, not wanting Matt or Tom to see him in a state of sorrow. Asking the same question every hour or fall apart under their watchful eyes.
Edd sat at his desk, inked fingers around the pen he used to sketch what he had been feeling that day. He pressed hard on the paper, indenting the notebook with the harsh pressure. He grew frustrated, unable to draw the image he had within his head onto the paper. It had been the third attempt, previous two tossed to his side in a small ball by his sneakers. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t find the right consistency he wanted the lines– The shape of the image wouldn’t come out. His mind a frazzled mess. In a fit of rage, Edd ripped several sheets of paper from its spiral hold and tossed it in the direction of his trashcan. By his doorframe.
Where Tom happened to stand and witness the event.
He froze, caught red-handed under the deep, dark gaze of his alcoholic friend. The pencil in his fingers gripped tightly, thumb pressed against the plastic ball point pen he used for his previous piece. He could see the worry that lingered on Tom’s face, the sadness and struggle that painted his features when looking at Edd. He hadn’t realized just how messy his hair was and stained with specks of ink from the constant running of fingers through brown locks. The corners of his eyes stung, vision blurred, not realizing he had been on the verge of tears before Tom said two simple words : Don’t cry.
He broke. Emotions flooded over him in a single tidal wave, tears streamed down in small rivers down his round cheeks and onto the tan khakis. The hand which held his pen released its grip, the gray object hitting the floor, cushioned by the carpet beneath their feet. He didn’t want Tom to see him in this state : tired. Agitated. Upset. Fallen. A sleeved arm flew up, desperate to cover his flushed, tear-stained face and muffle the sobs that escaped his lips. He hated this. The awful feeling in his chest. The inability to properly say goodbye. Falling apart in front of Tom. Body shook as the tears continue to fall. He couldn’t stop. No matter how hard he tried Edd couldn’t stop the harsh sobbing. He couldn’t stop the painful memories that lingered in his thoughts. He couldn’t speak– The words caught in the back of his throat and replaced by a harsh deep of breath.
Reality sunk in when arms wrapped around his hunched figure. A hand rested on the back of Edd’s head, fingers locking in his messy hair as Tom brought the artist’s face to his blue shoulder. The scent of liquor managed to sneak through his stuffed nose, the cotton fabrics absorbing Edd’s hot tear, relaxing him a smidgen. Tom. God, Tom. Without even knowing, Tom was able to calm the larger male by simply being there. In one swift motion, Edd wrapped his arms around the standing body. Fingers gripped at the heavy material like hooks, needing—wanting Tom to stay close as he continued to cry in his comforting embrace.
1 0 0. i. l o v e. y o u. | always accepting.@possessedtwice
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