Crimson Red-A TomTord Fanfic

Going, Going, Gone

Chapter: 11

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Tom's POV

Matt wakes me up, somehow having found a way into my apartment room.

"The door wasn't locked," he says casually, shaking me and telling me to wake up even though my eyes are wide open.

"What?" I'm staring at Matt, who seems to be trying to say something.

"Oh, nothing, just a package at the door for you."

I look at him, questioning him with a look as I sit up on the bed and rub my black voids.

"Its from Tord, by the way." He leaves the room and I can hear the faint shut of the front door as he walks out and down the hall back to his room.

I look to the end of the bed, where my feet are and sure enough, I see a wrapped package, in red, Tord's colour.

The string is a matching red to the wrapping paper. My face lifts into a little grin and I don't know why.

I move close and see that there's a letter taped to the top of the package.

I grab it, unsticking it from the paper and look down at the very neat writing.

It reads:

Hey Thomas, you left your hoodie at my place. I washed it.

Sorry for the color change, but now it matches mine. Haha. Well, you don't have to worry about me kidnapping you anymore. I'm going back to Norway.

By the time you're reading this, I will be on a plane headed to Norway. I'm going back to the Red Army.

I guess this is my last goodbye, so I also included something for you to wear to remember me by.

If you want to, of course.

It may never be reunited with yours but whatever.

Bye.

XOXO.

Tord

I finish reading the letter with so many questions. A part of me just thinks about how he said he'd be on a plane going back to Norway and I feel an emptiness in chest. Like a phsyciological ache.

But then I reread the XOXO at the end and think about how sentimental his letter was in many ways.

Hugs and kisses, I think, and I feel myself blush. I tell myself to stop, then stand up and walk out of the room, package in hand, card opened to the shiny red ink splayed out on the creamy inside.

I get to the dining room, walls plastered with checkered wallpaper, and sit at the table, then rip thorough the paper of Tord's package.

The first thing that catches my eye is the soft purple sweater-like material that pokes out of the hole I dug in the paper. I pull out the hoodie and realise it's mine.

I suppress a yelp. This is what he meant by colour change, that commie! Anger boils within me.

I smell the hoodie, my alcohol odor almost gone.

I unfold the sweater and something shiny falls out, onto the wood of the table.

I pick it up, feel it in my hands. Its a charm on the end of a silver chain, half of it missing, and it looks like it could fit together with an identical charm.

It's in the shape of a cloud, and I wonder why this shape.

I feel the charm, the sharp zigzag line that cuts it apart from its other half, and unclasp it, putting it around my neck and easily closing it behind my neck.