TomTord One-shots

before- angst

A/N okay so I don't really know what this is? Like I was just having fun. You can decide when this takes place since I don't really have a plan. Like I guess it could be after the end. enjoy?

Blue. Before it was always those blue eyes. The first thing you would notice was the intensity in those blue eyes. Dark navy when he was upset, bright turquoise when he was happiest. I always wore blue, especially after meeting him. The color became a security color, even after he left.

I think it was those blue blue eyes that made me fall in love with him. Sometimes if we were out in the sun, I'd see the glimpse of emerald green near his pupil. A sunny meadow surrounded by a clear sky. I loved those blue blue eyes, but I would never tell him.

Sometimes I still wonder if he ever looked into my eyes and saw a universe like I did his. I wonder if he imagined stars to fill the void, and planets to give life. Maybe he did, but I don't think that would be true. He never loved my eyes like I loved his. He didn't love me like I loved him.

Grey. When I saw him again after all those years, the blue was gone. That beautiful blue I fell in love with. The color was saturated and muted, like the sky got tired of being sunny and finally let the clouds roll in. He seemed so sad and tired, but all he did was force a smile and greet us.

He looked older than the last time I saw him. Wrinkles near his eyebrows and deep set frown lines were easily seen on his face. I remember wondering what he had been doing to make himself look twenty years ahead of his age, but I didn't ask. I should've, but my pride refused to let me. Maybe if I had asked, Maybe if I had just told him everything, then none of this would've happened.

but it did.

And it hurts, even now.

I remember getting a whiff of his scent as he walked past. It had changed. 

Before he came back, he had smelled thickly of cigar smoke, cherries, and something metallic maybe? I was never able to put my finger on what exactly it was that made him smell like him. Maybe it was the smell of summer sex. Or maybe it was something closer to the heat of the sun bearing down on concrete. Maybe it can only be described as him.

But that small sniff I got of him was nothing like that. Sure the cigar smoke was still there but the fruity stench of cherries that seemed to always cling to him was replaced by something more malicious. Maybe it was blood, maybe it was gun powder, maybe it was a strange mix of them both, but it was there. The only thing that hadn't changed was that summer like smell that always meant protection and comfort. Maybe not to the others, but always to me. 

Even his expressions and reactions had changed. 

Before, He used to be the most expressive, always smiling or reacting in general. He had quick reflexes much like a cat, and the physique of a bird. Light on his feet and seemingly always ready to take flight at any given moment. His facial expressions were my favorite. Every little thing that could happen had it's own reaction from him, whether it was a open mouthed gasp or a wide eyed smile, it was always unique in some way.

But after he came back, that seemed to have become a long lost part of his personality. I got annoyed by his now constant lazy and tired smile showing that little gap in his teeth that gave him a slight lisp. I was angered that, no matter what happened, his expression barely changed. I was heartbroken to see that the only thing to cross his face was annoyance before it quickly disappeared. 

In all my frustrations of seeing someone I loved be someone completely different, I stormed away. Running away from sadness and anger. I no longer wanted to see this stranger standing in the place of my lover.

Looking back, I wished I had never left. Maybe if I hadn't then I could've stopped him from hitting that damned button. Maybe I could've saved the house. Maybe I could've saved him. 

But it's to late for that.

I shot that fucking harpoon right threw his fucking chest. The same chest I had once wanted to lay on, well before that went under changes as well. He used to be small and jumpy and then he was broad shouldered and lean muscled. 

I shot that fucking harpoon out of spite that he had taken everything I had loved and chucked it out the window.

Only afterwards did I realize that I could've recovered everything I had lost, maybe never even losing it in the first place if I had just spoken up. Said something. I don't know, anything really.

But now it's too late. It's over. And it's all my fault.

Not a day went by without me holding one of those red sweatshirts that still smelled like cherries and tobacco and crying out my grief and regret. Even the mention of his name sent me into water works almost crossing the line to become a complete meltdown.

Edd said I needed a therapist, someone to let all my worries and guilt to.

But I knew what I really needed. I think he did too. What I needed was that horned hair communist that shot love into my heart like I shot a harpoon into his. 

But now it was too late.

I was always too fucking late.

I thought that I would never see him again. Hear that stupid accent that drove me absolutely wild. See those blue turned grey eyes. Never ever be in the presence of him again.

Until he showed up at my door.

His eyes had become sunken in. It looked like he no longer had any strength left. He wasn't even wearing that red color he adored. I remember why he loved that color so much. He said it was because Red was a harsh and violent color, but one time in and old journal I had stolen to taunt him with, he had written that he only loved the color because it meant romance and passion.

I never teased him for it.

He had looked up at me with stone like eyes glossed over with fear and tears. He was grimacing under my gaze. I saw all those scars across his face like lines of pink and red paint. I saw his arm that wasn't even really an arm. It was cold and made of steel. It had wires instead of veins and red paint instead of skin.

i wasn't sure what happened next. I Think I was astounded. He was dead, I was sure of it, and yet here he is in all his glory. Next thing I know my arms around him and I'm sobbing. He played with the back of my hair until I had quieted down.

"I came back to tell you goodbye. I- I think you deserve that much." He said.

Then he was gone, like sand between my fingers. I watched him walk down the hallway before turning around and giving me a small smile.I could already see the tears running down his face.

And then he was gone. 

I never saw him again. Maybe he's dead now, maybe he's not. Maybe his eyes are blue once again, the color raised by someone he loved. maybe he got his expressions back and maybe he was once the bastard I loved again. 

I'll never know.

What I know now is that I just applied for a job with the red army so that I might have a chance at decent life now that the world's new dictator has put in place the new law. My letter says i'll be Red Leader's personal assistant.

Now that I think about it, I wonder what he looks like.