Teach me, love

Chapter 8

Tom's POV

Friday couldn't come any quicker than it did today.
As if I was in like.. what's that one movie Edd showed me? Like, ah, like that Scream movie and that white masked big mouth killer crept up and killed me. That kinda feels like the sickening sensational tugging in my stomach. Except I'm not getting killed. But it like.. kinda feels like I will. Or am. Wait what?? Alright, maybe going to sleep at three wasn't a good idea, I'm comparing myself to getting murdered by some psychopathic maniac serial killer to stealing stuff from the store.

"Tom?" Tord's voice caught my mind's attention, dark bagged eyes drifting over to the boy's face at a snail's pace, my lips emerging hums of agony. Tord pulled off a lost smile when he pat his hand on my shoulder, causing a little twitch of my eye.
"Tom okay? Not words, today. No speaking?" He asked lightly, wincing when the pencil held in between my fingers dropped to the floor along with my head to the table. I just groaned out in distress, unbothered by the fact that my head might have slammed down a tad too hard. But, hey, why should I care, what I deserve for agreeing to rob a store for liquor and cancer sticks.

"Tom." Tord repeated, except more carefully and caring. My eyes just squinted in annoyance. "Tom okay?" He rested his head gently on the table so he was able to level down to my eyes. I kindly held up a paper he was writing the alphabet on prior between our locked irises in response.

"I'm good, Tord. Kinda tired but that's old news." I coughed up a response. That obviously didn't satisfy the Norwegian as he peeled away the paper and resumed his staring. Although his face was going red (same old same old), as of mine (again, same old same old), he was determined to choke out any sort of answer that wasn't a pathetically made up lie.

"Tom." He sighed more sternly, a tone I oh-so deathly recalled from Edd's serious speeches about my mentality, school performance, and unhealthy habits. That made me pop up furred eyebrows, unamused. "What's matter, Tom."

I sighed defeated, leaning upwards as he did the same so I could lean my cheek against my palm. Eye contact was an absolute must in our sessions, but my eyes were everywhere except the other teenager across from me. "Tom." He repeated again, I ran angry hands through my hair and tugged.

"Yeah, yeah, Tord I heard you the first fuckin ten times. I heard you." I whined, leading the fingers in my hair towards my face, shunning away whatever embarrassment was painted on it. "I just- ugh, I can't tell you because you'll tell- and you probably won't understand cause your English is equivalent to a caveman's"

"Tom. Me tell no. Nobody know what say Tom and me." He concluded with a flick of his hand on my shoulder. "Me," he pointed at himself. "Me no speak. Me got no mouth speak."

Yeah. That made sense.

"Tord. You.. you, just- arghh. Fine, fine, whatever. Not like you'll understand anyways." I waved around my hands like a wreck, they landed up in my hair at the end anyways while my elbows planted on the table. Tord leaned more, interested and concerned.

"I-.." I got choked up a bit, tugging at my locks angrily.
This is stupid, this is just stupid.
"I'm a bad person. I'm.. I'm gonna be a bad person, soon." I muttered briefly, feeling a bead of sweat lingering along the side of my head.

Tord cocked his head confusingly, reaching over to pull away my hands from the tangled mess of hair. "Tom no bad person. Tom is good. Nice. Really nice. Ganske."