Tord woke up first, his arms wrapped around something, a pillow perhaps? No, it was too firm to be a pillow, and pillows didn't breathe. He looked up quietly at the sleeping features of Tom, wondering why this was so familiar to him, the diary said many things in it, but a full on relationship with the man he supposedly hated?
Tord couldn't figure it out. A clever way to hide the relationship maybe? The man underneath him shifted in his sleep, bringing Tord closer to him with an almost silent squeak. Tord's head was right underneath Tom's chin, and Tom was hugging him close, mumbling a bit in his sleep.
"Tom? Wake up.", Tord whispered.
The Brit slowly opened his eyes, blinking a bit before looking down at him. He looked angry, then sad, then solemn. Tord was confused, why all these emotions? Tom sat up and helped Tord off, rubbing his face with his hands. Tord was extremely confused, he didn't know what to feel.
If he were to be honest with himself, he liked having the comfort of Tom holding him. The way his arms held him so firmly, yet gentle, and how his chest rose and fell in that peculiar manner. It was as if it was a habit for lulling someone to sleep. He couldn't like him, what if he was straight! Or had another person already!
Tord shook his head, getting rid of the odd thoughts. Tom looked over, his black eyes giving away no emotion, another thing almost too familiar to Tord. Tord had all these emotions rolling within him, that had no cause or use of being there, but among the love, and sadness, and anger he felt, most of all, he felt guilt.
"It was my fault wasn't it?", Tord said suddenly.
Where had that thought come from?
Tom sighed, "In a manner of speaking, yes. Although the I was the one who pissed you off and made you hate me."
"Hate you? Why? And how?", Tord asked.
Tom ran a hand through his soft, yet spiky hair, "We broke up before you left, and we didn't do it on the best of terms. I thought you were going away for a month or so, but I got angry when you said you probably weren't coming back. I got angry, and we fought, well, I fought..."
He stood up suddenly, walking into the kitchen, probably to get more alcohol. Tord stayed where he was, sorting through his mind for the memory. It was on there somewhere, he knew it. His mind was like a forest after a tornado, debris everywhere, some parts missing completely, but able to be found again, and others just in the wrong place.
He found something familiar, a scrap of a memory, but it was enough.
"I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"
Tord stepped back in alarm, tears gathering in his eyes. Tom was crying as well, but not in sadness, but anger.
"GO! LEAVE! DON'T FUCKING COME BACK!"
Tord turned around and left, sorrow coursing through him in powerful waves, heartbreak at its front, tearing through his emotionless shell like scissors through paper. He jumped into his car, not bothering with his seatbelt, and sped away.
Tord's eyes widened, he put a hand over his mouth and looked towards the kitchen, where Tom was standing in the doorway. He took a swig from his flask, looking towards him with a curious expression.
"I remember the fight...", Tord said.
Tom sighed, putting his flask back in his hoodie, "I'm sorry, for pushing you away."
"No, don't be, we can't change the past. It was a long, long time ago anyways.", Tord said, looking between his knees and tk the floor.
Tom walked over and sat down beside him, staring blankly at the television.
