You're (Not) My Hero | TomTord

Chapter 8

//These next few chapters contain biphobia, mention of scars, a briefly implied suicide attempt, and dysfunctional family/nonunderstanding. Please read with caution.//

29 November

Tord looked down at his phone, a feeling in his belly that he couldn't ignore. He smiled as Tom's message came through.

i love you so much baby, i wish that i was there with you right now

Tord's heart skipped a beat as he read the line.

You do, huh? He responded. He scrolled up through the rest of their messages. Some of them were cute and innocent, some were dirty (much like the direction that this one was heading), and others were just normal, everyday conversations.

Tord and Tom went back and forth for a while, Tord giggling every once and awhile.

"Tord!" a voice yelled.

"Yeah?" Tord yelled back, his voice cracking a little. He turned off his phone quickly and pushed it under his blanket when his father walked into the room.

"What are you doing? You are supposed to be sleeping," Paul said in Norwegian. Tord gulped.

"Uh...just setting an alarm," Tord pulled his phone out from under the blanket and unlocked it, showing his father his alarms. Paul took the phone for a moment and looked through the alarms, he nodded and started to hand the phone back when a message came through.

'Shit', Tord thought.

"Who is Tom?" Paul looked up at Tord. Tord stared for a moment.

"A-a friend," he stuttered. He watched as his father tapped the message. He watched as his father's brows furrowed and he scrolled up. Tord almost grabbed the phone back, but he knew that he'd be in much more trouble that way.

"Go downstairs," Paul said quietly. Tord nodded and started to get up, but he didn't leave the bed.

"Go, what are you waiting for?" Paul growled. Tord closed his eyes and got out of bed, knowing that his scars were obviously visible. He grabbed for a pair of sweats, but his father grabbed his wrist.

"Let's go," he said quietly, but Tord could hear the anger that was behind it. Tord sighed and followed his father downstairs.

"Patryck! Get over here, now!" Paul yelled.

"I'll be there in a minute," Patryck's voice could be heard coming from the kitchen. Paul grumbled as he pointed to the armchair that was across from the couch. Tord sat.

"Now, Patryck, it's important!" The Norwegian was a harsh sound to Tord's ears, who had started to become accustomed to English.