saltines and capri-suns {tomtord}

1~ crimson cardinals

another session everyday. same thing. sitting in that stupid dimly lit room with that black haired man sitting across from him. with those freckles that covered the bridge of his nose and spread outwards.

tord hated him, the way he would look at him with pity full in his brown eyes. he would give him looks of disappointment. the idiotic man with his legs crossed and the stern look on his face, it drove tord insane.

these therapy sessions were set up by his best friend edd. tord almost hated him for doing this to him, but no one could ever hate edd. the cola addict was too sweet, almost like the drink itself, maybe even sweeter. he wouldn't care what mistake someone would make or what someone would say, he loved them for who they were.

"so tord, how have you been feeling?" the man asked.

tord turned away from him, avoiding the hard stare he was giving him.

"leave me alone."

"tord, i'm trying to help you, please talk to me."

"did i stutter?! i said piss off!" tord shouted out without thinking.

the therapist scribbled down stuff on the board in front of him. his brown eyes had that pitiful look that made tord pissed. he was about ready to walk out.

the man looked up from his clipboard to study tord, to see what state he was in. tord had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, tousled hair from not showering often, the smell of alcohol vibrating off of him.

tord wasn't the one to drink, he never drank unless he was upset about something. tom was the one to always whip out a bottle of smirnoff and chug it down. tord was disgusted with just the lone thought of tom burning in his brain with his stupid, blank looks he would give him.

the two would fight any time their eyes would meet. god, the two couldn't even sit in the same room without starting some sort of argument that would end into some kind of fist fight.

"are we just going to sit here today tord? or are you gonna talk to me?" the therapist asked with a cold tone looping knots into his voice.

"screw you," tord bit back.

"should i turn on the normal music?" he questioned with a now comforting warmth to his voice.

tord shrugged, but the truth was is that he liked when he turned on the music. it was better than the therapy itself. it calmed him in a weird way, the sounds of all the instruments gave off a cool, warm vibe.

his favorite instrument was the bass, it gave a lively structure to the music. of course the guitar and the drums was what you could hear the most. but the bass was the control tower of the whole song. it guided the song into something beautiful.

the therapist looked at him closely, trying to read his reactions and expressions. he was trying to figure him out. the reason why he wouldn't talk or interact. the reason why he was depressed.

tord thought about how it was such a stupid assumption. him? depressed? he tried convincing himself that he wasn't depressed, just tried to fly away. 

he remembered the day so clearly. the day he flew. 

tord felt the way the wind whipped on his skin that day. he stood on that towering roof with at all stricken faces screaming from below. shouting at him to get down from his place up there. but he so desperately wanted to fly.

he stood there with a gazing look that burned into the glazed blue sky. he had a swooping feeling in his stomach, one that would tell him that he could fly. tord could feel the nauseous feeling from being in the air.