If you wanted to [TordTom]

VIII

Tom's mother called him into the kitchen, and they had been standing there for a while. Tom paced around the kitchen; his hands wouldn't stop shaking while fidgeting with the silverware, causing them to rattle against one another.

"Stop that," Mary commanded gently; he held Tom's hands and slowly placed them against the counter. She peered from the side of the doorway and glanced at Tord before staring at Tom.

"So? Go talk to him," Tom paled at the idea and shook his head.

"Why does he look like that?" Tom whispered loudly; she raised her brow in disbelief, "Well, he's not a teenager forever."

"Everything about him is different! Like he has a 'normal' job instead of something edgy like an army leader-- that's not Tord."

"Tom, be realistic; that's your perception of what you see him as." His mother rested her hands on her hips and softly smiled while raising a brow--she was right--he was being judgemental. This could also be the perfect time to catch up and clear up some things between them. Tom rested his face and walked to the living room.

He paused to mentally prepare a script for himself ("Hi, have you eaten?" "No, me too! Do you want anything?" "How have you been?" "What's in the letter, by the way?"). Tom nodded to himself and walked in front of Tord. He needed to be casual, so it doesn't look like he was too over-enthusiastic about meeting him--he needed to be as mellow as possible.

"Hi, want been letter?" Tom smiled.

"What?" Tord looked up from his phone and closed it. He blinked multiple times and stood up; his hand rested on Tom's shoulder, "I need to tell you something."

"Right--do you want to do it--the talking, not something else--over breakfast or?" Tom stammered; Tord's posture definitely made him feel shorter. Tord stared him down, "after you eat-- let's go somewhere private."

"Don't you want to join me?" Tom asked absent-mindedly; Tord nodded his head and opened the door outside. Everything felt overwhelming--there were so many things he wanted to ask and do--he wanted to scream, punch, hug, and break down with Tord. He should have a more mature reaction, but all that pent-up teenage angst that has needed a place to go.

"I already ate breakfast; I'll be fine waiting for you to finish."

"No! Even coffee? I'll get a creamer--"Tom could feel his breath becoming short; why the hell is he acting like this? He doesn't even treat guests this nicely. Tord seems indifferent to it, almost annoyed at his gestures.

"I like my coffee bitter; I'll make it and sit somewhere at the table," Tord sighed before motioning for Tom to walk first.

Breakfast was quiet; except for the beeping of the coffee machine, all he could hear was his thoughts. Tom couldn't even eat normally (based on what he considers normal), he could hear his chewing, and it felt like he was going too fast. Is this the perfect time to drink from his mug? Should he wipe his lips now?. God, he feels like an idiot--the idea made Tom feel even worse. Looking up from his plate, he could see Tord smiling softly before giving his mother her own mug.

Wait.

An idea suddenly crossed Tom's mind; he could feel his body turn could--was this why Tord wanted to talk in private?

Tom stood up from his seat and motioned for Tord to follow him; he pushed open the door to the porch and closed it behind him.

"Tord. Can you be honest with me?"

"That's what I was planning to do," Tord said quietly; Tom's face became bright red.

"Are you sleeping with my mom?!" Tom whispered loudly; Tord's face became bright red. Tom could feel his body lose balance. He could see Tord's mouth moving to produce slews of words that weren't sentences.

"So you're guilty?!" Tord quickly covered his mouth, "No! You fucking idiot!"

Tom ran against the wall while covering himself with his arms. Tord quickly removed himself from Tom and stood half a meter away.

"I'm sorry," Tom apologized quickly; Tord calmed himself down and helped Tom stand up properly.

"Please don't be; I didn't mean to call you an idiot," Tord quickly said before Tom could utter another word. He reached into his pocket and placed it in front of Tom's face. Tom grabbed it and inspected it; the letter (although crumpled) was done neatly, with another wax seal, like the letter where he confessed.

"I just wanted us to walk around together, hang out, catch up-- whatever functioning adults do with their friends," Tord chuckled softly at his usage of words. Tom couldn't pay attention; he needed to heal and move forward without Tord, but he also wanted to clear the dust between them. Opening the letter could send his path several steps back.

"Tord, I've read your letters to me--before I open this--do you mean any of these?"

Tord remained silent, "what do you mean?"

Tom could feel the frustration bubbling under his skin, "Were you being serious when you told me that you liked me after all this time? If I open this letter, should I expect something sincere? Tell me."

"You weren't supposed to read that; I told her not to give that one in particular," Tord scratched his skin. Tom's eyes turned into tiny slits.

"Then why did you send it; if you didn't want me reading it? You could have written it and threw it away."

"I can't say it here, but please," Tord reached for Tom's hand and squeezed it, "come with me when I come over at 6pm today."

"I don't even know you anymore; why would I go with you? You can kill me!" Tom took his hand away and wiped it against his shirt. Tord's face became sullen, "please."

"Just this one chance, I want to come clean to you somewhere else. Here, I'll even give you my phone number so we can keep in contact; I don't want to lose you."

Tord wrote his number on the back of the letter; before placing it on the table next to Tom. He stepped away slowly and walked away, leaving Tom with the letter.