Shouldn't Have [TomTord]

Chapter Eighteen

The plan went horribly wrong and, if Tom were to seriously regret anything, it would've been that. Its obvious that his mind split parts on where to go with the mission of making Tord hate him, one side choosing to drive through dark places and the one side choosing to drive through disgusting places. Suppose the plan was to scare his enemy, but maybe he should've dropped the plan the moment the sight of a hobo sleeping in a dumpster came in view.

Tom never knows when to quit.

And now Tord is walking through a trash infested street, probably crawling with beggars, all the while Tom drives to the safety of this home.

On the bright side, he had finally gotten that small little phrase out of the Norwegian. The phrase that made all of this worth it.

'I hate you.'

If that is what Tom was searching for, to have and to be told, then how come it didn't feel like the Christmas present surprise he was hoping for. If that phrase was supposed to make this all worth it, then how come it didn't feel the slightest bit victorious. Maybe the second step of the plan was for Tord to freak out and be kicked out of the house, but it still didn't feel right.

It's a small, tiny thought, but Tom considers going back to the first plan of wooing Tord. At least then it would've been more easier to control the other's actions.

The house is coming into view and Tom is slowing down his car, preparing a story on why Tord wasn't accompanying him on the journey back home. A million possible scenarios whizzed by in his mind, but no gears would turn. The only thing making him release staggering breathes is the thought of walking through those doors to find all his things in a suitcase to soon be thrown out. If it wasn't Tord to be thrown out of the house, it was sure to be him. Then again, he was a grown man. He needs to face this head on.

The car parked and stowed away on the side of the street, leaving the only thing left to do was return the keys to their rightful owner: Edd. Admittedly, Tom was hesitant to walk to the front door and open it, but he needed to do it.

Or he could turn around and drive away.

No, no. He needed to walk forward, open that door, and give Edd the keys back. That's what he needed to do and he will do it.

Then again, Edd could always walk through the door himself - which is exactly what happened.

"Tom? Where's Tord?" Edd had asked the moment he saw the eyeless man. Tom was standing in front of the front door, about to open it, when all of a sudden Edd had opened it instead and came face to face with him.

There was nothing Tom could do except stare ahead dumbly, clutching the keys in his hand. He's a grown man. He's a grown man. He's a grown man, but he's a sorry excuse for one.

"Tom? Tom. What happened to Tord? Why isn't he with you? Did you drive off the edge or something?" Edd continued to drone on and on with question after question after question, filling Tom's ears with his confused tone of voice. Tom would've done something to make the noise stop, but all he would allow himself to do was stand there and clutch the keys in his hands tighter, the ridged side of the chain making temporary dents in his calloused palms. What with all the stress of tonight, he couldn't take the sudden sensory overload of his thoughts and Edd's voice.

Finally, the motivation to speak up ran through him, "Edd, shut up."

His old self was back.

To treating your friends like utter shit; cheers.

"What the hell?" Edd's accent peaked through his confusion even more as he furrowed his brows at the eyeless male in front of him, "What's gotten into you?"