Dear Fuckboi: A TomTord Satire

that jennifer lawrence song

Helpless.

Tom was helpless.

A few days since the bucket list was created had passed, and Tom was sure that he would drop dead at any moment. These dreads began when they planted their tree.

Even looking at Tord was fucking insufferable. Tom hated everything about him. Tord looked like a walking, breathing special ed class with his clothing choices. Never in his life had Tom ever met a guy who looked like he wanted to have a daddy and be treated like a fucking baby. The thought almost made Tom gag.

But he didn't gag, because gagging is gay, and Tom's not gay.

Tord started to wear those plastic craft store gems to represent what he was feeling. Today, he wore a shitty plastic emerald on a chain around his neck. Perhaps, instead, the colors corresponded with how he was making Tom feel, which was slightly ill.

Tord was sitting on a low tree branch, swinging his legs back and forth like a bored child. He was typing something into his phone, while Tom gripped a shovel in his hands. He had already begun to dig into the earth, and he stopped to glare at Tord.

"Are you gonna get off your ass and help me? This is our suicide tree, after all," Tom said.

"Sure, I just need to finish this Gene X Hi-Five yaoi fanfiction."

"...Is the plot good?"

"Meh, Gene and Hi-Five are neighbors who fall in love with each other, but Gene commits suicide when he thinks Hi-Five doesn't love him anymore."

"Oh."

"It's not bad, but Gene and Hi-Five are really out of character. And the author doesn't really capitalize anything, so that really deducts some points. Also, there's just a bunch of things that don't make sense. It's a sad story, though, so that makes it an instant classic. People these days don't have any standards."

Tom had blanked out in the middle of Tord's rant. He shrugged. It probably wasn't that important. Tord clicked his phone off and hopped down from the tree, grabbing the sapling that he had stolen from a place that was selling Christmas trees. How they were going to hang themselves from a pine tree, they didn't know. Tord put the sapling in the hole Tom had dug, and filled in the hole.

Tom dropped the shovel and admired the tree. It would be a fine one to be swingin' from one day. Tom and Tord were both thinking the same thing. Tord smashed a foot into the dirt, leaving the contour of the sole of his shoe. Tom did the same.

"Now people will know it's our hanging tree," Tord said, satisfied.

"Nobody else comes here. Although that's kind of amazing that literally nobody else in this entire dumbass fucking universe has discovered the forest with a fucking waterfall in the middle of fucking London. Do only we exist in this universe? Or is literally everyone a fucking shut-in?"

"What if aliens came? Then they would know."

"Aliens don't give two dicks about dumbass footprints."

Tord sighed. Tom was about to continue arguing, but he was silenced by a crack of thunder.

"Storms a-brewin'," Tord said in his best pirate accents.

"Yeah, I can tell."

The rain that softly began to patter onto the earth soon became a vicious, roaring downfall in a matter of minutes. Tom and Tord, being fucking idiots, had decided to not seek shelter. Hypothermia must be all the rage with the teens these days.

Tom sighed as the rain made his shirt cling to his skin. His hair was beginning to droop down with the weight of the water. His beautiful fucking hair. That was over the line for Tom.

Tord was still looking up at the clouds for whatever reason, mesmerized by it. His attention was torn away by Tom, who had thrown a fairly heavy punch at Tord's arm.

"You told me it wasn't going to rain today!" Tom yelled.

"I can't predict the weather to a tee!" Tord yelled back, giving Tom a hearty shove.

Tom looked shocked for a moment, then wound up and shoved Tord back. Tord drew back his hand and fucking chopped Tom in the throat. Tom held his neck, gasping for air, and kicked Tord in the shin. Tom crouched low before Tord could play dirty like that again.

Tom rolled away from Tord, not caring that he was getting himself filthy. Tord was following him, stumbling around on the slippery mud. Tom gathered up his strength and lunged at Tord. The taller boy fell back with a thump and gasped.

Tom pinned Tord's arms down using his knees, and he had planted his hands on either side of Tord's face. Tom wound back a hand to swing at Tord.

"Please," Tord whispered, "be gentle..."

Tom's expression became one of pure terror, and he relaxed his arm a bit. "Okay, that's too much for me," he said, letting go of a laughing Tord. Tom got up and shook himself off.

Tord returned to his feet, too. The boys stood in silence until Tord began to sing.

"Got my helmet on my head,

Figure out what that zombie said,

Lava all over the room,

Got a half-heart, man, I am doomed,"

Tom decided "fuck it" and joined in.

"Don't have any iron bars,

My pick just broke into some shards,

Scary noise, what should I do?

Go left or right? I'll have to choose,"

"Visions of last time flash inside my mind,

I'm scared, oh well,

And I'm pretty sure there's a big creeper right there,"

"Don't mine at night,

I know you're lookin' at that cave,

And you're feelin' kinda brave,

Go to bed you'll be alright,

Don't mine at night,"

"There's nothing that is gonna change,

If you just wait until the day,

Zombies wanna eat your brains,

Don't mine at night,"

"I know it's me you're gonna thank,

Make a bed it's not too late,

Three wool and three wooden planks,

Don't mine at night,"

"How many times I have to say,

Drop the pick and walk away-a, woah,"

"Don't mine at night,"

The two boys continues to sing Minecraft parody songs.

Tom was helpless.

Helplessly filled with hatred.