poetry books ➶ tomtord au

- prologue -

     a cold breeze swept into the bedroom through the open window. tom rubbed his restless eyes and looked to his left, only to see a boy wearing a lightly colored sweater with his face dug so deep into a book that he couldn't be disturbed. tord. that was what tom was over here for. just to keep tord some company in the cavernous silence as tord read books. poetry books. 

     tom couldn't protest though. he was within this room from his own sheer will. nothing was forcing him to sit next to tord as the white noise of the smallest gusts of wind flew in from the ajar window. hell, if tom wanted to leave right now and never look back; he could. regardless of that, he chose not to. he was compelled. the image of the quiet boy with horned hair so heavily invested in a book kept him gravitated, for reasons unknown. reasons he didn't have to know.

     suddenly, tord shut the book he was reading, and placed it down on the empty space next to him. to tom, this was a rarity. from the time tom entered tord's room, to the time he left, tord could never remove his eyes from the words that danced on pages of creme colored paper. breaking the thin tension that hung in the air, tord cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of the pastel sweater which draped from his thin frame.

     "why do you actually come over every day tom?
     is there another reason than providing company?" 

     tord's voice was blissful to tom's ears after being deafened by silence for minutes to end. mellifluous. of course there were more reasons. reasons tom wasn't ever ready to tell tord. or tell anyone right now. heart thumping in his chest as fast as tord's eyes searched tom's, tom let out a shaky breath hesitantly. 

     "would you like it better if i wasn't here tord?" 

     this seemed to tick something inside of tord. tord hated being alone while reading. it drove him insane. as if he needed someone by his side for all of the things he does just to do them correctly in his mind. despite it sounding ironic, tord would lose focus on reading if tom wasn't sitting next to him. 

     the norwegian boy was too interested in the poetry he was reading to even really acknowledge that tom was there, but the fact of tom being there was what kept his head in the world of words. tord was in love, yes, but he didn't want to admit it. tom didn't want to admit his love either. 

     "no. i wouldn't like it better at all." 

     "why's that?"

     "does it matter?"

     "yea, kinda."

     "oh, shut up."

     "okay okay. whatever makes you happy tord."

     "some ice cream would totally make me happy-"

     "let's go get some ice cream then you dork." 

     "is it okay if i bring my book?" 

    "seriously?" 

    "yes. it is my lover." 

    "will you ever get a real lover?"

    "maybe tom. maybe."