TomTord Oneshots (EddMatt/MattEdd Included)

This isn't a part

I apologize for my awful updating schedule.  But I felt the need to show more people this. It is also uploaded on my other one-shot book. Enjoy.

 Start Time ~2:30 am

Inspired by the first 3 chapters of a story titled Forget-Me-Not by Minubell on the website archiveofourown.org .

Thunder boomed across the average seeming civilization he had found himself in. Flashes of colors ran across the man's eyes. Being of blue, red, green, purple, and white. White. His scream was so vivid. I could hear it, though the words made no sound. I could hear the trauma and terror. The regret and sadness. The loneliness and confusion. The loss and fear of losing. I could hear it. And it almost broke me. I would have cried right then. But I didn't. Part of me wishes I had. To fully express the guilt and sorrow, sympathy and pure worry, for the poor man. Though I am not a part of this man's story; I felt the hunger and sickness. I felt the trauma. The sadness and sense of being completely and utterly alone. I could feel how sorrowful the broken shell of the man he used to be felt. I felt for the broken, red-clad, man who cannot remember a thing. He knows of the sky and trees, the roads and houses, but not a thing of himself. His name, his appearance, his family and friends, not a thing appeared familiar in his broken mind. He knew not of his appearance other than the sad reflection in the window of a store and the 'wanted' poster plastering an image of him with fewer wounds and far more professional clothing.

He is a man who was too scared to leave the alleyway in fear of the authorities taking him away for crimes he did not recall committing. Breaking him with harsh punishments befitting the wrongs he had no recollection of doing. He left briefly before hearing the sirens and fleeing in pure terror of what could happen to him and his broken body and mind. He considered giving up and letting himself be taken if only for shelter and food. He decided against it and stayed in the alleyway with his broken, red, firearm. He referred to it as 'useless.' A word he referred to himself as. His useless arm. His useless body. His useless mind. His useless gun. He felt defeated.

He knows of his alias being Red Leader, having enough common sense to determine that was but a title. He also knows of his true first name. Tord. He had only found out as much when a stranger he had not recognized referred to him as such. The stranger greeted himself as an old friend. Edd, he called himself. Tord, however, could not tell you if this were true or not. Edd had brought the poor scared man home, having to carry him due to how weak the poor soul's body was. Tord had awoken to a warm blanket, soft sofa, and sleeping feline. He had not moved much as not to disturb the snoozing animal and observed his surroundings. His friend had entered the room asking when he had last eaten. He had not eaten in what he had guessed 5-6 days, though he could not be certain due to him waking up and falling back asleep numerous times during his time in the dirty alleyway. Of course, he had tried resorting to the nearby dumpster for food but could not bear the stench that had tainted it for more than a few moments before he had to dry heave himself better. He could throw up due to nothing being in his stomach to rid of. Edd had informed him of their relationship as friends, and once roommates.

They had lived together before in a home that Tord does not recall. Edd though, he can remember many things about that house. One being why they had left it. Edd knew why Tord was wounded. Why he had no memories. Why he and his friends live in separate apartments rather than the shared home they had used to dwell in. He remembers the death of his neighbor and near death of one of his closest friends. That friend also having a great deal to do with the state Tord was in. The broken, scared, and traumatized state of his old dear friend he once laughed with. The friend he knew was gone. Lost in an explosion. Now he holds only the body and memory of the man he once called his friend. He was not dead, do not be mistaken, only forgotten by the mind that was his own.

Though Edd knew of the incident that led to this he had not known of his friend's alias or secret life outside of their group. He had not known of Tord being the leader of the Red Army or him being known as Red Leader to countless soldiers. He only knew of the firearm loving, cigar smoking, dirty-minded, goofball he was proud to call his friend. He even had a type of gun he had invented. The one that had a partial play in this story. A memory-eraser gun. Tord was a smart fellow and made many inventions. This gun is one of them; though it was never clear what it was created for or who's memories Tord needed to be erased. That of which should be cleared up when one is aware of his alias and position.

I know this is a sorry excuse of a chapter and there are no ships I just got a burst of inspiration and needed to share it with more people. I have been typing for 3 hours.

Bye.

-Yucky