Eddsworld ships (fluff and some spicy)

Wilted Tulip

- 3rd POV in the kitchen with Tord and Tom -

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇

A vase of tulips shattered to the ground as two men fought in a living room, throwing objects at each other, missing by inches each time. In the corner, a green hooded fellow and a purple jacket man both retreat to their rooms, tired of all the quarreling. 

Tom, stood in the kitchen, the island kitchen protecting his lower body as he held a glass plate in his hand as his protection.

"YOU NEVER DO ANY 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 WORK AROUND HERE TORD! YOU NEED TO DO YOUR FAIR SHARE TO KEEP THIS HOUSE RUNNING! ME AND MATT AND EDD CANT DO EVERYTHING!" Tom screamed at Tord, who was fuming. 

"Me?! 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 , I AM THE ONE PAYING FOR MOST OF THE BILLS! YOUR SO FUCKING SLOW IN THE HEAD TOM!"  Tord shouted back in his defense.

Tom slammed the table, his palm turning a bright pink.

"SHUT UP!" Tom yelled back, lunging at Tord.

Tord grunted loudly as Tom collided with his chest, them both falling to the floor as Tom tackled Tord. 

"𝐉Æ𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐌!" Tord yelled as Tom slapped Tord hard, making Tord then punch Tom hard, and they began to fight physically for the third time today.

This has been going on for weeks now, maybe months. Tom and Tord had never gotten along, but now it has escalated. Tom usually is left on the floor sobbing or is getting dragged away by Edd, to help him calm down. 

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- 3rd person - in the bedroom with Matt and Edd-

Matt and Edd listened from the bedroom. Matt held Edd in a tight hug, Edd biting his nails as he heard the sound of punches being thrown. 

" We need to help them somehow, what can we do?" Edd proposed.

"Yeah, we should. I can look into it later when its morning, 'kay?" Matt said back with a soft smile. He gave Edd a small kiss on the head before getting up, walking to the door. 

Edd softly nodded, giving a light smile before lying down, pulling the covers over himself and rolling over, facing away from the door, and sighed deeply.

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- Back with Tord and Tom -

Tom was mid-throw with a glass plate, when Tord grabbed Tom's head and slammed it into the wall. Tom sucked his teeth as the pain burst into his forehead. He clutched the kitchen table before everything became a haze, his vision turning blurry. Tord looked at the red stain on the wall, then at Tom. His eyebrow furrowed slightly. He stepped forward and Tom collapsed, hitting his head again on the table.

"Shit." Tord cursed under his breath as he lifted up Tom, inspecting his body.

Tord carried Tom to the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet seat, rummaging around for the cleaning alcohol. Tord disinfected the wound and then wrapped a gauze around his head, securing it with bandage tape. He took Tom to the couch and laid him down. Tord gazed down at Toms body, the soft rise and fall of his chest, before turning the TV on, lowering the volume then turned back to look at Tom.

Philophobia. The fear of love.

Tord swept a stray strand of hair from Tom's face, then pulled back, huddling himself on the other side of the couch and chewed his bottom lip. Philophobia. That's what Tord has. His past relationships, family problems and more, has caused him to fear love, fear of attaching himself to someone, to pour his heart out for them, but get nothing but an empty shell in return.