death hotline (tomtord)

call me xx

// tom //

it was now nine am and tom was now waking up. he sat up in his bed and stretched, rubbing his eyes , wiping the residue on his pant leg. he dragged himself out of bed and continued on with his boring life.

today was food shopping day. once every two weeks tom would go to the market and buy the same items. same brand, same type, just the same.

eight bottles of smirnoff vodka (the good stuff, according to him) and four mini microwavable pizzas.

that lasted him two weeks. he never ate much, hence the reason behind his unusually thin build. he drank, but not a lot. that was for special occasions, if any. he usually had leftovers.

he exited the apartment complex and walked to the market. it was only maybe a mile away. not a long walk. toms traveled longer distances on foot.

//

the automatic doors opened at the sight of tom. he stepped in and immediately went to the alcohol aisle, retriving eight bottles of smirnoff. after getting the pizza he went to the register, where his sort-of-friend worked.

she was a perky, very social girl named chloe. she was about the same height as tom, but tom was taller. she had light brown hair which was bleached at the end. it was not long but not short, reaching just below her shoulders in several light curls.

her large, green eyes sparkled at the sight of tom.

"hey tom. getting the usual?" she asked, grinning. for some reason, she was always excited to see him.

"same as always." tom replied, managing a smile which was obviously fake.

he had just enough money for everything. his total was somewhat expensive, but it always was. tom always got the same thing. only once a year did he buy something else.

a small cake for his birthday. just for him. its not like anyone else was going to do it.

plus, he always needed one day to be happy. like his day off. a day where he didnt have to cry, (well, depends on what was on his mind at the time) cut, think. just sit on the couch, watch tv and eat cake.

//

once he got home he sat at his desk and opened one vodka bottle. he noticed a small note on the desk, a rectangular piece of paper that was crinkled a bit. he picked it up and turned on the lamp to read it.

call me.

there was a phone number below it.

tom smirked. it was tords number. he had a gut feeling. in the corner it said

xoxo, tord

tom didnt hesitate to dial the number into his phone.

it rang for bit, then that familiar heavy accent asnwered.

"hey tom." tord said with an excited but calm tone.

"salutations, tord." tom greeted in the same tone.

"i see you got my note." tord stated with the same weird tone. this made tom a bit uncomfortable as to where this conversation might go.

"stop talking like that, dingbat."

"im just excited."

"for what?" tom asked.

"i have to 'tell' you something. but not over the phone."

"but why?"

"just open your door." tord commanded, a slight giggle could be heard after.

tom was nervous, but curious.

hopefully tom would open the door and tord would plunge a knife into his paper-thin chest. or put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. clearly, tom was to chicken to do it himself.

he hesitated, but them got up and shuffled to the apartment door. he opened it and tord was there.

tord pounced on tom, knocking them both down to the floor. tord kissed him for a moment, that seemed like forever.

well that escalated really fast, tom thought. i guess this is called "love."

tord pulled back.

in the same weird tone, he said

"i missed you."