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Moving On

"Tord," Tom nudged Tord. Tord grumbled and tried to roll over, but Tom's arm wrapped around his waist. Tord looked back at Tom.

"Yes?" Tord mumbled.

"Babe, I hate to say this but your parents are texting me," Tom muttered. Tord shot up.

"What?" he asked. Tom handed him his phone.

Where is my son?

If you took Tord then the police—

Tord took the phone and dialed his number. Tom watched carefully.

"Hello?" a voice answered. Tord took a deep breath.

"Dad, it's me," Tord said in Norwegian. Tom looked away.

"Where the hell are you?" Tord could tell that it was Paul on the other line. Tord grabbed Tom's hand and squeezed it.

"Can I talk to Patryck? I don't want to talk to you," Tord said cooly. Tom raised a brow, even though he couldn't understand what Tord said, Tom could understand to tone of Tord's attitude.

"You are in big trouble when you get home," Paul growled. Tord rolled his eyes.

" If I go home," Tord responded. Tord could almost feel Paul's anger radiating.

"You get your ass home now! " he yelled.

"Let me talk to Patryck," Tord responded calmly. He did not want to wake his friends or let Tom know that it was a bad conversation.

Tord could hear Paul yell for Patryck. The phone shifted over to someone else.

"Tord? Hello, Tord?" said a strained voice. Patryck spoke in English.

"Hi, dad," Tord responded in English. A sigh of relief could be heard on the other end.

"Tord, where are you? Are you okay?" Patryck asked. Tord gave himself a sad smile as he listened to his father's voice.

"I am fine, dad. I am just with some friends," Tord mumbled.

"Are you coming home?" a tinge of hurt could be heard, and Tord lowered his head in shame. He didn't mean to upset his father.

"We love you, Tord, both Paul and I. We want to talk to you about last night," Patryck said. Tord shut his eyes when he heard Paul's name.

"I am upset with Paul right now, dad," Tord said. He could feel Tom's eyes shift to him when Tord said his other father's name.

"I know, but you need to talk about this with him."

"He is so closed minded, dad! Everything I say he does not believe! Even if he is a little more loose, he is still as closed minded as other people," Tord said, confused with his own wording. Patryck sighed.

"I know, but he's scared, Tord. You scared both of us last night."

"He hates me," Tord's voice cracked. Tord could hear someone talking on the other end.

"No! No, Tord he doesn't hate you," Patryck tried to say calmingly. "He's just worried,"

"All he talks about is his blood family, dad! I am not that to him...I do not mean anything to him," Tord felt tears start to build up in his eyes, but he also felt Tom's arms wrap around him. Tom lay his head on Tord shoulder, opposite the side where Tord held the phone.

Tord could hear someone on the other side.

"Tord...I don't hate you, I really don't. You are my son, blood or not. I...I am sorry for making you think that I hate you," Paul said with what sounded like uncomfort in his voice. Tord sighed.