//The title is advise from Ya boi, papa zaccy
((Chapter 8))
Tom squinted at Tord's hand. He had painted his nails a bright green.
"Hi, I'm Thomas Rishwell." He slowly took the boys hand, suspicious of his intentions.
"So Thomas, what are your interests?" The caramel headed male asks, "I like photography, books, the occasional boxing match and can play the clarinet!" He named, smiling.
((Shout out to all the band kids reading this, I'm on clarinet. I named him Oswald. Do you have an instrument? Did you name it?.))
"I like Ska music, can play the Bass, and enjoy drawing and baking." Tom pulls his hand away, hiding it away once again in his hoodie pocket.
"You sound like an intriguing person, Thomas." Tord smirks, "Care to go for a coffee?" He tilts his head.
"At this hour?" The eyeless boy squeaks, "Its So late! No shops are open!"
"Thomas, this is the West side, not East, everything is alive at this hour." Tord grabs Tom's arm and gently tugs on the sleeve, "Whether it's from insomnia, jacking off too much or partying, almost everyone is awake."
Tom blushes from the second statement, allowing himself to be pulled forward by Tord, "Fine, I'll get a coffee with you.." He looks at the ground.
Tord made a sound of happiness as the shorter brunette agrees, letting his hand fall lower, softly gripping Tom's wrist.
"So, Tord, what type of coffee do you like?" The eyeless boy's gaze slowly trailed to look at the spikes of Tord's hair.
"I like vanilla." Tord says with a hum, "Though I myself am not very vanilla so I need it to even me out." He glances back to smirk at Tom.
The brunettes already pink cheeks flared into a deep red, jaw clenching, "I don't need to hear about your level of kinks, Tord!" He yelps.
The caremel-haired boy giggles audibly, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself!" He smiles, "You get flustered so easily, just like old times!"
"I do not! I just...." Tom squinted. He can't come up with anything.
"Shut up!" He grumbles. He pulls the jacket tighter around him and sighs, "I thought we didnt know each other..." He smiles.
"We do, we just met." Tord smiles, squeezing the brunette's wrist quickly.
"Fuck you." Tom laughs. He looks at the shop that was down the street. He had heard about the place from Matt during his aesthetic phase but had never gone.
There were soft pink and blue fairy lights hanging inside, much different from the harsh neon colors Tom was used to seeing.
Sugar Foot was the name of the place. There were a few workers inside, all in white shirts, light grey aprons and black pants.
Tord led the eyeless male inside, seating him at a two-chaired table.
"Oh, hello Mr! Back again so soon?" A boy walked up beside them. He had curly blue hair slicked back and big brown eyes, face adorned with freckles.
"Yep, sorry." Tord laughs, "Am I that big of a nuisance, Peyton?" He purrs, leaning on his palm.
"No sir!" 'Peyton' smiles, "We all enjoy your company here! You're very sweet!"
"I should say the same for you." The heaterocromatic boy muses, "I'll be getting the usual, thank you." He eyes Tom for a moment, taking in his appearance, "Can you snag a cupcake for the newbie?"
Peyton nods, writing the order, glancing at Tom for his ask.
"I'll have a black coffee.." The pit eyed boy was looking at the roses at the center of the table. They had been spritzed with water not too far earlier.
The fluffy haired waiter bounced off to send the order to the baristas and converse with the other contenders in the establishment.
Tord lets out a small chuckle, "Gosh, he's cute, right?" He tilts his head At Tom.
"No." The other cringed, "Why would you think that?" He squinted. He recoiled his hands to his chest.
"Because it's true?" Tord raises an eyebrow, "Not all of us are straighties, Thomas."
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6 6 6 words once again >:)
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+Lap Dance+
Fanfiction🔼🔼 Story Discontinued 🔼🔼 (TomxTord) Tom is kicked out of the house and needs a job. Nobody will hire him so he applies for a job at a bar. A male stripper. He gets accepted but this as a weirder bar, where the dancers are in total darkness with...
