"I'm sorry":TomTord REMAKE

Chapter 2: Old Friend, Depressed Thoughts

(tw: self harm </3)

Tord walked slowly into Toms apartment as Tom followed him in behind giving the door a harsh slam.

"Okay Commie, I'm going to place some fucking rules that you have to follow...got it?"
Tord nods slowly as he began to listen; gripping onto his robotic arm.

"One, don't touch my shit. Two, don't talk to me, unless it's FUCKIN' urgent, and lastly number three; you sleep on the couch."

"..okay." Tord responded softly as his eyes remained on the floor, keeping his eye contact away from the blue hooded male.

Once Tom finished speaking he left Tord to get settled in.
He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of Smirnoff before heading up the stairs.

Tord remained alone as he plopped himself on the couch.
It looked slightly stained with alcohol, but other than that it was comfortable to sit on.

He felt the intense guilt consuming his small body. Taking off his shoes; he laid back onto the couch. Staring off as he started to zone out, head completely blanked out with the negative thoughts in his mind.

"monster.
look at yourself, this is your fault.
you're horrible.
worthless."

His eyes filled up with tears as he lifted up his robotic arm. With a light and weakened chuckle, a tear drops down his pale cheek.

Getting up, he rubbed his eyes and walked towards Tom's bathroom. He walked inside and locked the door. Looking at himself in the slightly dirty mirror.
His eyes were extremely tired. Dark bags completely covered under his eyes. Almost black. The scars on the half of his face were more of an reddish pink. His blind eye was a pale grey; other eye a bright red. He felt the scars on his face and shakes his head.

"Things wouldn't have been this way." He says with a numbing tone. Glancing back up at the mirror - he reached his hand into his red hoodie pocket and pulled out a small razor.

He always kept it there.
Always when the voices were to much to him. Always when the guilt consumed his soul. Always when he just needed to let his emotions out.

Taking it out - he raised his sleeve and looked at his fleshed arm. Tiny scars littered the arm, but not as horrible when the incident happened to his robotic one.

Placing the blade against his arm, he made a quick slice. Hissing in pain as his lip quivered.
He did it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

He felt his arm going numb as tears fell into the cuts, causing a sudden sting.

"Fåen.." Tord muttered as eventually stopped. Sniffling to himself,
He glanced at the clock that was in the bathroom - it read 10pm.

Tord wobbled a bit due to how much his arm bled as he pulled down the sleeve.
Unlocking the door, he left the bathroom; forgetting the bloody razor inside the bathroom and sat onto the couch.
Glancing over he sees Tom grabbing more bottles from the fridge and drunkly wobbles back upstairs - not even noticing Tord.

Tord shakes his head as he got up and shut off the lights.
"Maybe I should try to sleep.."
He says to himself as he glanced over and noticed a blanket placed on the coffee table - folded neatly.

Tord raised an eyebrow.
Did Tom place it there while Tord was in the bathroom?

Shrugging it off he grabbed the blanket. He sat down and hugged the blanket close before unfolding it, getting ready for bed.

Laying down on the couch, his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he shut his eyes.

Trying to calm his mind.

- - -

Around 4am; Tom came downstairs and pretty hungover yet sober. "Stupid commie.."Tom mumbled as he looked at Tords sleeping body. Tord looked peaceful as he slept.
Tom shakes his head as he went into the bathroom but stopped dead into his tracts.

"Is that a..?" Tom asks himself as he walked up to the bathroom counter. Some blood dried onto the counter as the razor remained there.
Slightly rusted.

Toms eyebrows furrowed as he picked it up. Examining it, it looked extremely old. It was covered in rust and had edges that were sharper than others.

"Where did this come from..?"Tom wondered.
Suddenly his mind clicks into realization.

His head slowly turned over towards Tords sleeping body.
"No fucking way.." Tom mumbled as he walked over towards Tord and knelt down to him.

Tom finally notices a robotic arm - and sees the damage that the harpoon gun actually did to Tord.

Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed Tords healthy arm gently and raised the sleeve.

Expression of shock flooded onto Toms face.

"Tords..self harming?.."
He whispered. As tord adjusted in his sleep. Tom quickly let go of Tords arm as he watched the norski curl up more into the blankets.

"This isn't the Tord I knew before.."