"isn't this one infamous for being awful?" tom's black eyes scanned the back of the book tord had his nose in. there was a scoff, which eventually lead to murmured words, only leading to silence again.
"yes, it is. so what?" unlike the rest of the books tord had piled up on the floor beside his bed, he was actually annotating this one — or well, highlighting his favorite lines and drawing little pictures on certain pages that didn't have one. tom always wondered about the kind of art the mysterious boy might've made on his own, but he didn't want to pry and make him any more uncomfortable than he had previously.
there were so many things tom wanted to say. ask about tord's eating habits, and all these little things that eat tom up when he's away from the cutest boy he's ever met. but, with as many emotional outbursts he's had over this week of spending time with tord, tom didn't want to ruin the friendship he was still trying to build. the horn haired boy wasn't so enigmatic, he just had trouble opening up. and tom wondered if he came off in a way that made him seem unapproachable.
"nothing! wanna read me one from it? i promised i wouldn't pass early judgement on these books anymore."
tord couldn't help but blush as he remembered tom's voice as he made that promise — he had just taken a big bite of his waffle cone and the chocolate ice cream was smeared on the corners of his mouth. the norwegian shook away the thought of how kissable he looked then, and flipped the page.
the next page didn't have a poem he wanted to share, but the boy had read this book enough times to click his tongue and remember a short one he liked off the top of his head.
. . .
"you might not have been my first love
but you were the love that made
all the other loves
irrelevant"
. . .
tom, in his blue hoodie, pulls the collar of it because it's pushing against his throat. he notices a certain shine in tord's eyes and his heart thumps. the poem, about as basic white girl as he was expecting, felt so much more real coming from the boy. he quietly slipped into a daydream where he pulled the book out of the norwegian's hands and wrapped his arms around him, but he rubbed his eyes to refocus.
"not so bad, commie."
they made brief eye contact after that statement of genuine praise, making quiet note of the color that pushed through both of their cheeks.
the spike haired boy laid back on the carpeted floor and stared up at the ceiling, counting the glow in the dark stars that tord's parents totally got from spencer's in the local shopping mall. in fact, he wanted to take him there one day, but tom knew how public spaces like that often made the book worm fidgety. so he blinks, and feels happy enough to just be here in the same room as him.
unbeknownst to him, tord was etching a sketch of tom on the pale white page of the book, with little hearts all around him.
it was rare to have a day as peaceful as this one, but they both appreciated it with a deep, unspoken love.
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a/n: the last time i updated this was 2017, but whoever is in charge of hell told me i have to spend energy i don't have writing 500 more words for this story. so hi
dedicated to @TrashChildForDaWin, (don't think i can tag you) thanks for asking where i was in 2018 lmfao
pic cred is xeptum on tumblr <3
YOU ARE READING
poetry books ➶ tomtord au
Fanfictionin which tom goes to tord's house daily to accompany tord in reading poetry.
