Tom's P.O.V
Ever since I shot Tord out of the sky, I haven't been right. We never found a body, and presumed it had been destroyed in the crash. But I knew better.
I swear, sometimes I'd see you in the shadows or hear your voice in the wind, so I always talked in hopes of you hearing me.
Who knew it'd take such a toll on me, as to have me drink and cry every night.
Matt and Edd tried their best to comfort me, but I knew deep down they blamed me for Tord's death. I blamed myself too.
I just couldn't let go the feeling of despair, no matter how o hard I tried. I tried to convince myself that I didn't care if he was dead, or that maybe it was for the best.
But deep down, I cared too much. And maybe that was the problem.
I hated the silence in the house that used to be filled with our bickering and yelling. Or the red hoodie that would be lying on the couch that I would throw off just to piss him off.
But most of all, I miss his smile and laugh, the way cigar smoke filled the air, and his stupid comics littered his floors.
I missed his accent and his soft hums when he did everyday tasks. I hated being alone.
I felt as though I cried alone, so I made my skin cry with me. Red tears would run down with mine, and it made me feel a little less lonely. I made them cry red, because that's what you were. You were anger in my throat, passion in the bedroom, and love in my chest.
I never told you any of this, because I was afraid of what you'd say. If you'd sneer, and he disgusted of me, or if you didn't feel the same. I didn't want to be filled with shame, so I opted for loneliness.
And that's what I feel now. Lonely. I was raw, full of hate and anger. Love and sorrow. They all blended together a little to perfectly, making the worst condition ever.
It didn't feel right, to be here even though I caused Tord pain. But a simple suicide wasn't enough, because he fell from the air. Panic in his lungs and fear in his joints. So, that's how I'll go too.
Tord's P.O.V
I've been watching from afar for a while now, seeing how my "death" has affected everyone. Surprisingly, it's hit Tom the hardest. It's hard to take notes on him, since I've never seen him since. I know Matt and Edd are furious with him, though they feel just as guilty.
I watch now, the dark overhead a perfect blanket of disguise for me. And then, I see him. For the first time in a while, I see a navy blue hoodie, with beaten converse. He was walking, a slow and steady place.
I'm confused, because it's opposite from the bar, more towards the city. I follow in the shadows, making sure to be quiet. He hums an old song of mine.
How does he know it?
It's from an old Norwegian tale, and I know I've never spoke of it, so, how does he know it so well?
It plays throughout the small space around him, the rest filled with quiet night time bustling, the rumble of engines and hum of late-night restaurants.
He turns into an alley, his steps getting more confident. He looks back, and his eyes catch mine. I'm frozen, scared he'll start screaming, yelling at me for disappearing.
Instead, a hollow look crosses his eyes and he turns around, climbing up a ladder. I stay down below, wondering what the hell he is doing.
I watch him, following his path. He's at the edge now, looking down at the empty street.
Oh my god. Is he going to jump?!
"Tom! What the fuck are you doing?!"
I don't care that I'm blowing my cover. I'm worried about losing him. He's all I have.
His voice is quiet, but loud enough for me to hear.
"Great, I've lost it. I can see you again." He chokes out.
A warm drop hits my face, but it's not raining. It's tears, running down his cheeks.
"If this is a test Tom, it's not funny! Get the fuck down, now." My voice is assertive, but trembles. Now tears are spilling out of my eyes.
His head tips back, his chest expanding, then deflate.
"It's not fair that you had to go through that. I caused you pain and fear, and then, nothingness. I'm stuck in nothingness without you. I'm incomplete. So, I'll join you."
I watch in horror as he takes one more look down, then turns around, spreading his arms, and falling.
His body crashes into the ground, a sickening crunch accompanying it.
I run of to him, immediately dropping to my knees and cradling his head to my chest.
"Tom, you dick. Get the hell up!"
Blood leaks from his mouth, too much. His neck flops around, no support at all, bent at an awkward angle. His spine moving under my knees, bones jabbing into the skin.
"I said get up! I'm not joking!"
He's shaking now. No, I'm shaking.
And now, I'm incomplete, too.
