When You Called

Chapter 2

Tom's P.O.V
"What are you doing to yourself?" Tord asked, using a warm towelette to clean the blood that dripped from my wrist. The droplets stained the towel with crimson splotches.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice to stay steady in my current condition.
He sighed and pulled the medical kit into his lap, the bright red plastic was contrasted against his black jeans.
He popped the lid open and reached into the box, grabbing the tan gauze and begun to wrap it around my arm.
"Come to me if you have a problem. Don't do....THAT."
The way he said 'that' made my cheeks heat up in shame. His tone was caring, yet....angry?
As if he was baffled that I'd even consider this an option.
He shut the lid on the first aid once more and engulfed me into a hug, his warmth surrounding my cold flesh.
I stiffened at his touch, not used to being hugged.
I gave him a quick squeeze back or otherwise known as my poor attempt at a hug.
I watched as a sigh escaped from his parted lips, his patience worn thin.
"Tord, I'm sorry I-" I started, only to be cut off by him raising a hand, signaling for me to save it.
I clamped my lips shut and nervously picked at my nails.
He walked out of the room, and I was left alone in the dark room again.
Tord's P.O.V
I still couldn't believe Tom had done that, and with what?!
I raked a hand through my hair, a habit I had when I was stressed.
I walked over to the hall closet and flung it open, cursing myself when the towels started to fall out from the sudden movement.
I shoved them back in there, not caring if they were refolded or not.
I stuffed the first aid in there and closed the door, the soft click assuring me nothing would fall out for now.
I walked over to the stairs, lightly grazing the railing with my finger tips as I padded quickly down the steps.
I headed to the kitchen and picked my phone up off the granite counter. I tapped in the password swiftly, my fingers already knowing where the numbers lie.
I searched for the phone icon, my apps being a jumbled mess that I never seemed to care about organizing.
Once I found it, I clicked over to the dial pad and hit in the numbers needed, then picked up the phone and held it to my ear.
"Hello?" A gruff voice answered.
"Hey, it's Tord. We still on for tonight?"
A pause was heard from the other side, but he was still at the phone.
"Yeah. Bring over a deck of cards, will ya?"
And he hung up, not waiting for an answer.
I set the phone on the counter and headed over to the couch.
It was a burgundy color, but with stains that showed we have put it to use. Darker red splotches came from Tom's alcohol, while the rest were mystery or food.
I sat down on the familiar piece of furniture, a groan escaping from my mouth as I slightly bent over.
Man, I'm out of shape.
I grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels, unimpressed with the selection of shows to watch.
I got up and walked into the kitchen, the old carpet turning into cold tile. I made my way over to our junk drawer and rummaged through it for a pack of cards.
When I found one, I pulled them out and stuffed them into my pocket.