The Traitor and The Communist

Back To The Begining

Song-What You Know by: Two Door Cinema Club

Tord was laying on his couch, with a cushion behind his head and a blanket pulled up to his chest. He told himself he was just too tired to get up and sleep in his bed, so he's better off just sleeping on the couch.

In all honesty, it was more of a self-given consequence of lying to Tom so blatantly, and he knew it.

Still, he just feigned being 'too tired', even if he'd been staring at the ceiling for what felt like years, but was probably just a couple of hours.

He stared at his phone laying on his chest, it was odd, quiet. Tord touched the screen causing it to light up. Still no new notifications. With little interest, he half wondered if he'd finally blocked all of the numbers they had.
"Maybe it's over?" Tord said to no one, the sentence barely above a whisper rang out into the darkness.

That thought made his stomach twist, he let his head roughly hit against the armrest. All, that, for absolutely no reason, maybe he was just a dick. He really hoped he hadn't fought Tom for nothing. But there was always the chance that he did, for no reason at all, except he was paranoid, crazy even, and a dick. Tord shook his head. He rubbed his face and stared at the ceiling,
"No. No, I should know better than that by now it doesn't work like that, it wasn't that simple before it can't be now." Tord's face grew warmer at the sound of his voice, briefly, he wondered if everything finally got to him and he snapped, consequently leading to him talking out loud like a nut case to no one.

Even if that was the case and Tord had finally lost his last few screws, the silence wasn't helping his missing marbles. The apartment had gotten so quiet it started feeling more concerning than the constant buzzing. No noise whatsoever, his phone had gone radio silent, the neighbours were quiet, telly and its remote long sense abandoned, not even the motor in his fridge was audible. The only sound was the ever-present static ringing in Tord's ears.

Tord reached up and rubbed his eyes. He slowly sat up and tossed his phone beside him, Tord used his knees to push off the couch and shuffled into his kitchen through the soupy darkness.

As he was going back to the couch, feeling his way back with one hand, a glass of water in the other, his phone went off. Just the sound of the buzz made Tord freeze in his tracks, he held his breath as he waited for the string of notifications that should follow. His heartbeat thudded in his skull.

But they never came.

The couch creaks under Tord's weight as he sits down. He sets his water to the side and checks his phone. The text shows coordinates and some bare-bone information, Tord runs a hand through his hair.

He opens up the GPS app on his phone and puts in the strain of numbers, it shows him the park that is a couple of blocks away, the very same one where Matt first found him, as well as the one the four of them had their picnic a few months back. An image of Tom's and his fight flashed into his brain for a moment, he takes a drink from his glass. Tord stares at his phone eyes straining at the new light source, debating if he really should go or not, all it details is a date, a time, plus the location. There's only one person to ask about this now.

Tord sends Adam a text asking if he should go. They talk back and forth a bit before settling on he should. A feeling in his gut told him it was a hundred percent a trap, but what the hell, he'd have to end this agonizing game of charades at some point, better to let them believe they had the upper hand in this.

His eyes drift away from his phone to his duffle bag hanging off the coat rack, barely visible using his phone as a torch.

Joints crack as Tord stands up and stretches his legs. As he stretches his arms he clunkily walks over to the coat rack, he flips on the light switch next to the door illuminating his living room. He unzips the bag and digs through it for a moment. Tord pulls something out of the bag and the edges of his mouth pull up into a smile.