I Love You, Rival

01

They kept a distance from each other as they take their seats on the bright red couch.

Tom, currently drinking out of his flask – turned his head and glared daggers towards the norsk.

The Norwegian is much too focused on his ""magazine"" to even notice Tom was glaring towards him.

He turned the page with the top of his fingertips, before his eyes slowly look up to notice Tom is glaring.

"What do you want." Tord asks with an eyebrow slightly raised. He lowered the object in his hands as he narrowed his own eyes.

"For you get the hell outta my sight." Tom snapped in response as he turned his head. Huffing a little as he takes a swig of his flask.

"Sorry, but no can do." Tord grumbled in reply as he tossed his 'magazine' onto the coffee table.

Tom slightly jumped at the sound as he turned his head to look at the nowegian once again.

"Unfortunately, Edd has informed me to you – we have to get along, so why him and Matt. – they are not here." Tord informed towards the brit. His English not the brightest but can be understandable.

"They just bounced up and left?!" Tom exclaimed with his hands in the air. Tord shrugged and exclaimed back. "Dunno! They have left the note on the kitchen fridge!"

"Oh, for bloody hell's sake." Tom grumbled as he gets up from the couch. He walks into the kitchen.

Tord followed him with his head slightly tilted to the side. Tom rips the yellow small sticky note off the fridge and began reading it.

"Hi Tom, Tord!
Just letting ya know,
Matt and i went to a hotel for the night.
You two,
Behave."
-Edd ^w^

"Oh are you serious.." Tom crumbled up the sticky note and tossed it onto the counter.

Tord laughed a bit. "Well they aren't here, so i think he is." "–Oh shut the hell up commie."

The communist only laughed at this, which made Tom feel angrier. He went over and began to shout.

"Shut the hell up Commie! All we're doing is watching the house! That's all! So don't even talk to me or anything, ya hear!?" Tom shouted.

Tord raised an eyebrow. His laughter finally stopped as he gave Tom a cold stare.

"Jehovah, you know damn well I'm just going to pesture you." He replied to Tom's outburst.

"GAH!" Tom screamed in frustration as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Smirnoff.

Tord only began to smile at Tom's reaction. Watching how the British male left the kitchen with the bottle in his hand.

He followed and entered the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He says, "Drinking isn't going to make me go away, y'know, yes?"

Tom opened the bottle and chugged a bit of the alcoholic beverage. He lowered the bottle and turned his head.

"Can't you just, fuck off? One night! That's all!?" Tom asked as he looked down at the carpeted floor.

Tord walked over. He knelt down and grabbed the bottle out of Tom's hand. Tom quickly lifted his head.

"Hey!" He raised his voice a bit, trying to grab it. Tord shakes his head and takes a swig of it for himself.

"Gah.. I prefer whiskey." Tord replied as he lowered the bottle. He handed it back.

"Whiskey." Tom repeated, grabbing the bottle.

Tord nodded. "Why yes of course, in home country you do not get whiskey very often – oftentimes at the bars they serve vodka and beer. Blegh. It gets sick after a while."

"Oh... I didn't know that." Tom says, much calmer than he was before. Tord shrugged his shoulders. "Norway is pretty strict in its country."

"Strict?" Tom questioned as Tord sits on the couch again.

"Yes, strict. With rules and everything." Tord muttered as he picks up his 'magazine'.

The two went silent for a moment.