broken souls (tomtord)

1.

tom's eyes shot open as he sat up suddenly in his bed, which was actually just a sleeping bag that lied on the dirty carpet floor of his apartment. he clutched his chest, struggling to take breaths in order to calm down from his nightmare.

he shook his head, turning his head to read the time on his phone. 5:18 AM. he was supposed to be at work by 6.

tom stood up, trudging to his doorless bathroom. he took a cold shower, brushed his teeth, and changed into a grey, long-sleeve shirt and the blue jeans from the day before.

by the time he had finished, it was 5:47 AM.

tom left his apartment, making sure to lock the door. he walked down the creaky steps that led to the first floor, leaving quickly through the dirty glass doors. it took him only 5 minutes to reach the cafe and walk in.

matt was there, swiping a damp rag over the tables, a tired look on his face. "we're closed right now-" he began before stopping himself as he realized tom had arrived. "oh, hey, it's you!"

tom quietly nodded.

"good, good. we open at 7, which gives us time to tidy up the place," matt explained. he added with a scowl, "tord's supposed to be here."

awkwardly, tom messed with the sleeve of his shirt. "maybe.. he slept in."

"yeah, he's probably just-" matt caught himself, shaking his head and rolling his baby blue eyes. "i'm assuming you know how to wash dishes?"

"i do." tom responded.

"perfect. there's an apron hanging over there and a mighty pile of plates and bowls and silverware begging to be washed," matt chuckled. "after that, you put them all in that blue tub- see it?- and stack them on the shelves next to tord's station. put the silverware in the grey bin on the counter and the cups on the shelf under the plates and bowls. that's about it. occasionally i'll ask you to clean tables if it's a slow day."

"okay." tom answered, voice barely above a whisper. he took the apron from off the wall, tying it around himself after a couple minutes of struggling.

"good. and your shift ends at 4!"

* * * *

tom hauled the full tub over to the shelves and placed it on the floor, wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and panting slightly.

the breakfast rush just passed, leaving matt and edd exhausted. the two were mainly aggravated at tord, who'd kept fucking up orders. (hummus on a bagel instead of peanut butter, really?)

tord leaned on the wall, tapping the end of his cigarette and swiping off the ashes that landed on his shirt. "it's pretty hot in here, huh, eyeless?"

ugh. god. that nickname tord had come up with secretly pissed tom off.

"uh huh." tom nodded, beginning to pick out the silverware from the tub and place them where they belonged.

"mhm," tord raised an eyebrow. "so then why are you wearing long sleeves?"

tom bristled, trying not to let it show. he felt his skin itch self-consciously. "it's all i have," he mumbled.

"you sure?"

"yes."

"really sure?"

"i-"

tom was cut off by matt ringing the bell that sat atop the silver counter and placing down a piece of paper. "c'mon, tord, get to work."

relieved, tom quickened his pace at putting the things away, mostly to avoid having to stand next to the norwegian.

tord groaned but picked up the paper anyway. "eggs and toast with butter." he murmured, rolling his eyes and starting to cook.

tom glanced at tord every so often, noticing how the older man would narrowly avoid ashes falling into the food.

"doesn't edd get mad when you drink and smoke while cooking?" tom asked quietly, frowning.

"yeah," tord laughed, as if edd's anger amused him. "but it's not like he can fire me. i've worked for this cafe for years and known edd since 1st grade. we're basically brothers. no way he'd fire me. we've been through a lot together."

tom cringed as he saw tord take a drink from the same paper bag from the day before. "okay."

"i'm here for good, man." tord chuckled, eyes half-lidding.

time passed and, soon, tord was slurring his words and stumbling around the kitchen. he messed up orders more often now and even broke a plate, forcing tom to clean it up.

as tom worked on washing a coffee mug, he stiffened up at the sound of violent vomiting come from behind him. he dropped the mug into the sink (it didn't break, thank god) and whirled around in surprise.

tord was leaned over the trash can, face inside of it as he puked up a bad-smelling liquid.

"oh god.." tom mumbled, eyes wide. "d- do you want me to go get matt? i'll-"

tord lifted his head while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his eyes were wide, shaking his head. "no, you idiot, you fuckinn'- don't tell anyone, i'm fffine, i'm fine, okay? just shut- shut *hic* up. throw out thhe trash. now."

"okay, okay, i- i'm sorry." tom shrunk away from tord, his heart skipping a beat at the fear and anger that had flashed across tord's face.

tord's eyes narrowed to slits. he straightened his posture, taking a couple steps towards tom to tower over him.

tom gazed up at him, breath hitched. shit, shit, shit. this was all too familiar.

"..you've been through some shit, huh?" tord spoke huskily, hands clenching and unclenching.

tord's prying, analytical gaze caused tom to sweat more than he already was.

"i don't know what you're talking about." the brit eventually managed to say, slipping past tord and lifting the trash bag, tying it closed.

"you do." tord hissed.

without a word, tom carried the trash bag through the hallway and out to the dumpster.