If you wanted to [TordTom]

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Tom waited for Tord to pull up in front of his porch patiently. Today was one of the rare occasions where he cleaned himself up to look presentable. He slicked his hair back and buttoned his shirt properly--he wanted to look nice for Tord; this could be the first and last date he would go to.

"If he ever tries anything dangerous on you, tell me, okay?" Tom's mother flashed him a sad smile before leaving to do something else. He didn't have time to react, but it did make him worry about what would happen--what if this was just an elaborate plan to hurt him again?

A car honking snapped Tom out of his thoughts; he took his wallet and wallet before slipping those inside his pockets. He quickly yelled goodbye and closed the door behind him.

Tord stepped out of his car and waved at Tom; his beige overcoat was a stark difference from his usual black trenchcoat. His entire appearance was brighter than Tom was used to; neutral colors instead of deep shades. He looked more approachable and friendly. His haircut also showed his face better.

Now, Tom felt severely underdressed compared to him.

Tord opened his arms for a hug before quickly putting them down and opening the car door to the passenger seat instead. Tom nodded politely and sat down inside.

"It's not far from here," Tord paused while adjusting the mirrors; Tom put on his seatbelt and quietly listened to Tord ramble. From the rear mirror, he could see that half of the backseat had a sketchpad and--what he assumed--was a folded wooden easel.

"If we stay up late, it might get cold; I have another coat at the back--you already have your seatbelt on; I'll just get it for you later," Tord chuckled softly and began driving. Tom sat in silence; he never knew Tord took up painting as a hobby as well--it was not as exciting as what the old version of him would have liked--maybe he did change for the better.

"So, what have you been up to?"

"I've filmed advertisements--sometimes photojournalism--and did office jobs," Tom skittishly answered.

Why was he in a hot seat? The tension inside the vehicle was similar to those of an interview. He tried picking out the most interesting things he did--but these were jobs he hated when he was drunk and even more when he was sober. As he grew up, the ambitions he had were discarded along the way; there was a time in his life when he didn't know what to do with his life (or if he would even reach this far).

"So you did accomplish your dream; that's amazing," Tord praised him; Tom could feel his face flush in embarrassment.

"How about you? I've seen that you've taken up art."

"I'm doing alright; I have a stable job and enough time for myself," Tord smiled sadly, "My medium for art is pastels--maybe we can do that together if you'd like."

"That would be nice," Tom looked outside the window; the surroundings were vaguely familiar. Tord followed the direction of Tord's gaze and put his arm around Tom's car seat.

"Do you remember this place?"

Tom thought for a while before coming to a conclusion. Their old hangout spot has been turned into a park; the overgrown grass has been turned into a brick pathway, and people were frolicking.

"This is the one place I know the coordinates of; funny how much this place changed," Tom could hear the car engine turn off.

Tom turned his head slowly and stared at Tord's face. Their eyes met for a moment--Tom couldn't place the word for the feeling that he felt--it was like everything he expected was unfolding before him; Tord was being on the nose with the message of change, and he hasn't done anything bad or dangerous. He's afraid, scared and excited about what would happen next.

"Tom, are you okay?" Tord was about to reach his face but he immediately swatted it away. Tom snapped back to full consciousness and apologized profusely. He instinctively reached for Tord's hands and massaged the knuckles. Tord's hands were rough; he must be working with machinery for them to get that calloused, but it felt nice and soft at the same time. After a minute, Tord finally removed his hand and slipped it into his pockets.

"Why did you do that?"

"I was reaching for your seatbelt--we should get out--it's getting stuffy here," Tord chuckled awkwardly before leaving the car. Tom exhaled quickly and put two fingers on his wrist to check his pulse--Tord hasn't hurt him yet--he's doing the bare minimum, and it's making him feel scared.

Tom opened his side of the car and followed behind Tord.