Tomtord Oneshots

Bittersweet Endings

AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ:

Sorry ive been gone oh my gosh- Ive been writing a newer story with my friend, abi, and its been alot.

i just wanted to put this out here; I headcannon tord as trans, it stuck to me because IM trans and i see it as a sense of comfort. With al being said and done...

WARNING!!!! THIS STORY CONTAINS:

Transgender Tord

DESCRIPTIVE BLOOD N SQUEEMISH TOPICS

Mention of transphobia

Suicide

Angst

Really shitty storytelling

ON WITH THIS DUMPSTER FIRE OF A THING!

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As he looked down, peering at the zooming cars and commotion, he stood on top of the rooftops ledge, holding onto its banister. This was it. His body quivered, yet his face was relaxed. He looked up at the sky, stars painting the night sky like a drying canvas. "I guess this is really it." he croaked. Everything from the last months to this final moment was a blur. He took a deep breath in, and let go of the banister. "NO!!!" a voice cried from behind him. A boy ran after the falling body, trying to grab something, ANYTHING to keep him up here.

.

.

.

.

It'd been too late. His body fell, going at a rapid pace, speeding up until a sickening *CRACK* and a *THUD* could be heard. It was over. The boy, now remaining on the roof, stumbled back, falling to the roof's ground. He tried to choke back his tears, but he couldn't. An overwhelming sense of emotions swallowed him whole. Anger, why would he leave me all alone? Guilt, why wasn't I fast enough? Why hadn't I seen the signs before? Nausea hit him like a train, he got up and hurled. Time seemed to stop. Everything stopped. He quickly whipped his mouth on his sleeve, and ran down the stairs. He could still call 911, he was sure they could get an ambulance and save him. Right? He opened the door and his heart dropped seeing the Norwegian man he once called his lover again.

Red.

A whole lot of red.

Funny, red had been his favorite color. Now, he was surrounded in a pool of his own blood, choking on the crimson color.

He looked away, fumbling to grab his phone.

The Norwegian always looked so much more peaceful sleeping to the Brit.

He would always tease how he was a dead corpse when sleeping because he was such a deep sleeper. The Brit called. He was frantic, his voice shaking. Everything felt so unreal. Was this a dream? More importantly, is this how he felt?

"Sir, I need you to calm down. The ambulance is on its way. Can you state your name again and your relation to them?"

"My name is uh-" he stammered "Thomas Heelshire. I am his boyfriend. Please, can they hurry up?" Thomas said, in a pleading tone.

Despite his rambles and begs, the operator made sense of what was going on "They are 2 minutes away. Stay on the phone with me. We are doing what we can, Thomas. What is the name of the victim?" Tom paused.

"Tord." his voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry sir, can you speak up?" "Tord." He said, raising his voice a bit.

It hurt to say his name in these conditions. Never did he think that hed be there to witness anyone suicide–

It wasn't even that. Never did he think he'd witness HIS suicide. Tord Jones. His best friend, lover, and at one point, his enemy.

"Can I have the victim's last name, sir?" "Tord Jones." "any family or relatives in the region?" "No," he lied.

He knew what the operator would say if he did. That they would 'call the victims family to be there.' Tords family made Tom feel sick. A bunch of transphobic morons who kicked their son out at 16 for being himself. Would they even care?

"I don't see a Tord Jones in the files. Please use the victim's REAL name." "That is his REAL name." Tom snapped, growing angry. Man, these two minutes felt like years. The operator quickly picked up on the aggression, and the situation. "Is the victim transgeneder, sir?" "yes." Tom said. He didn't want to talk anymore. It didn't calm him. He felt as if he could vomit again. But he wouldn't. He fought that urge. The sight of flashing lights had caught his attention.

The ambulance finally arrived.