TomTord oneshots

alt ending to last chap

tw: suicide, depression

I love you all. You were so amazing. I never deserved you. I understand why you ignored me. I'm not worth it. Never was. I'm sorry. I love you all. I'm going to miss you guys, I think.

Tom let out a sob.

Goodbye.

He just stared at the words he had written.

He thought about the gun in his bathroom.

He thought about how much Edd hated him.

He thought about how much he deserved to die.

He thought about how scared he was to die.

Slowly, he dropped the pen. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he glanced around the room for the phone he had thrown.

He stood to grab it, his knees wobbling in protest. It took far too much effort to get himself close enough to grab it.

One call. He'd promise himself one call before he did it.

Who, though?

Edd? No. Edd hated him. No point in trying.

Matt? Once again, no. Edd most likely already told Matt about what happened.

Guess that just leaves Tord.

He clicked the call button as he stumbled back to his desk. He collapsed down on the chair, needing to conserve his energy.

The phone kept ringing, and Tom couldn't help but wonder if he'd even pick up. It's not like Tord liked him or anything.

"Hello?" Tord said as he answered the call.

Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, letting out a wet chuckle. "H-Hey, Tord," he said, cringing when his voice cracked.

"...Are you okay, Jeho?"

Tom started to wonder if Tord could hear his hyperventilating. "Mh—" Tom's hum was cut off by a short sob. "Mhm."

"You don't sound okay—"

"Could you t... talk about something?" he choked out, eyes welling up with tears. "Anything."

Tord's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he stood up from his kitchen counter. "Anything?" he repeated as he reached for his keys.

"A-Anything." Tom's voice cracked again and another sob escaped his lips as he placed his forehead down on his desk.

"Alright." Tord hopped into his car, earbuds plugged in as he started it. "You remember that one girl? Alex?"

Tord just rambled about his old best friend as he drove out to Tom's place. The boy sat and listened, no longer crying.

After a long while of no noise, Tord stopped mid-sentence. "Tom?" he said gently, trying to catch the boy's attention.

No response.

Panicked now, Tord sped up a little. He bit at his lip. "Tom?" he repeated once more.

Nope.

He pulled into the driveway of Tom's small, one-story house. He ran up to the door, looking under the mat for the key. Scared for Tom's well-being, he didn't bother to knock as he unlocked the door and rushed inside, not closing the door behind him.

Okay. Tom's room was the best bet.

He bolted down the hallway, silently chanting 'fuck' over and over in his head.

Bursting into the room, he immediately noticed Tom slumped over at his desk.

He ended the call as he said, "Tom?"

Still nothing.

Tord got closer, eyes wide with panic as he watched the boy.

Suddenly, Tom sighed deeply in what must've been a deep sleep.

A sigh of relief escaped Tord as he walked over, a hand reaching down to massage Tom's scalp.

Then he saw the paper.

Curious, maybe a bit nosy, he grabbed the paper. His thumb pressed against a wet patch on it.

Tears.

Eyebrows furrowing, Tord read what Tom had written. His stomach ached as he got to the end.

Thank fucking god he came when he did.

He fished out his phone, sitting down on Tom's messy bed so he could keep an eye on the poor boy. He clicked on Edd's contact and called the boy.

It didn't take too long; Edd clung to his phone like a leech.

"Hey, Tord."

"What the hell happened?" he spat, taking no time for formalities.

"...Pardon?"

"Tom. What happened with Tom?" Tord kept his voice low in fear of waking the boy.

Edd sighed on the other line. "Like I told you, Tord, he was acting up again and refused to talk to me. You know what a shitty friend he is."

Tord's blood boiled.

"I confronted him about it, and he ran away like usual. That's all he ever does."

"...Did you think about how that impacted Tom, huh?" He looked back at the paper he held in his hands, trembling with rage.

"God damnit, Tord, you know how he is. He probably doesn't give a shit. He could care less about his friends—"

"Then why the fuck am I holding his fucking suicide note?" Tord spat, interrupting the boy. "He was acting up and refusing to talk to you, huh? It was the second time he did this, huh? 'I just can't fucking talk when I'm suicidal. I stop talking because I can't do anything but wish I was dead.'" Tord gritted his teeth. "Kanskje i stedet for bare å bry seg om deg selv, bør du bry deg om selvmordsvennen din, ikke sant?" he spat in his mother tongue, hyperventilating with anger.

No response.

"Tom's okay. He passed out at his desk. I'm taking him to the hospital." He ended the call right then and there.

He glanced up at Tom, a bit surprised to find him still asleep. Part of him worried that he had taken pills or something.

No. Guys tend to choose a more... violent death, he reminded himself, leaning down and picking the poor boy up.

"It's gonna be okay, Tom," he whispered, taking him out to his car.

basically an alternate ending to last chapter bc a) I felt p bad about the quality of last chapter (ngl I was having a fuckign mental breakdown while writing it). b) kinda felt bad for just killing Tom out of nowhere ¯\_(ツ)_/¯