"Let's just go home." I say, my voice low. "Please."
Tord sighs. "Okay." He nods slowly. "Fine."
I sit in the passenger seat, my gaze focussed on the world and sights outside that quickly zoomed past as Tord drove. I occasionally looked back at Tord, seeing his eyes steady on the road.
Okay, what the fuck dude. Why is he caring so much about me freaking out occasionally? Like I'm still able to care for Maisie! Maybe he just wants to make sure I'm really capable? Maybe?
But even still, why would he care so much? Before he got kinda mad that I would shrug everything off. It's not like it's a big deal. It's okay! Uh...
Maybe okay.
But- I jump, suddenly pulled out of my thoughts as Tord pats my knee. "Tom? You still with us?"
"Uh-," I swallow nervously. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Maisie wants to ask you something."
I look back into the backseat, smiling at her. "Hey kiddo, what's up?"
"Hi Fom!!!!!" She grins excitedly, munching on her Happy Meal. "Here Fom!!" She hands me a nugget, smiling wide. I grin and take the nugget. "Thanks Maisie." I eat the nugget, smiling at her.
I sit back in my seat, looking out of the window again. Tord then spoke up. "Hey, uh...So for the next 2 days I'm gonna give you a bit of a rundown on how to run the house, y'know? Maisie is a pretty calm kid, and isn't picky with food. You can take any cookbook and make whatever you wanna eat, go nuts." He smiles at me. "However, she's pretty particular about which detergent she uses. Whatever you do, do not use the lavender one for her bedsheets. That's for me, it helps me fall asleep better. But you cannot use the lavender detergent for her."
I nod, listening to his warning. "...Right. Uh...and why is that?"
"She's allergic. Not deathly—but she sneezes a lot and gets a rash. Just use the detergent and softener in the green bottles."
"Green bottles, gotcha."
Tord smiles. "I'd say that's about it so far as rules for appliances. There's a closet in the kitchen with a broom, dustpan, mop and bucket, and vacuum. So if there's anything a mess you can clean it easily. There's cleaner and soap in there too."
"Alright. I'll probably wash the floor a few times a week, otherwise it gets all dusty and sticky and I CANNOT handle sticky floors. Ew."
Tord laughs a little and nods, he pats my leg, and I suddenly realize that- HIS HAND IS STILL ON MY FUCKING LEG. Not just my knee—his hand must've moved up. I'm not exactly complaining—It's just a nice, friendly gesture!
"Tom?"
"Hm?"
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"Huh??"
Tord blinks at me. "Isn't- Did I say it wrong? I'm sorry—I've been in Norway for a few years, I kinda forgot some English mannerisms and whatnot..."
I shake my head. "No, no no erm...I just don't usually get those kinds of metaphors. It's a me thing."
"Ah, what I mean is, you're thinking. Somethings on your mind. What's going on?"
"Uh-," I draw a blank. Considering I was just thinking about Tords hand on my leg? Yeah no I'll keep that one to myself. "Well I-...I dont have any clothes."
"Oh! That's fine, don't worry about it. You can borrow mine for now! Then when we're going Christmas shopping I can buy you something."
"What?" I stare at him, a bit dumbfounded. "No, no I can buy myself clothes. I'm already using yours and just me moving in now it's- I can do it on my own."
Tord frowns a bit, he seems kind of sad? "Well, if you say so. But I want to help. You moving in is already doing me a HUGE favour." He pats my leg again. "Thank you so much for that."
I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. I put my hand on his own and squeeze his hand. I smile at him. "No problem man, seriously. You're doing me a major solid."
"Well, what are friends for?"
______________
sorry this one's a bit short it's a filler chapter
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The Cicada
Fanfiction"Sick of his own face; sick of his skin, of the dark. He crawls outside himself to sing-a better poet than most." Tom himself is a cicada, always has been. The fear and panic forcing him further underground as everyone around him strives to reach th...
