❥ tordtom oneshots《

Scintillation

lmao, here's some big words because i can haha— man i am a grammar nerd...

anYWAYS! this is a random thing i made related to physics. if you don't get this word (scintillation) just look it up! i'm too lazy to explain, it takes out the mystery and fun out of this chapter too soooo,,,

Genre; more angst then fluff i—

Word count: 904

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-nobody's pov-

Scintillation. A generous word to be brought into our language. It brought shivers down a familiar Norwegian's spine when first hearing, delightful confusion dancing with curiosity in a graceful ballet. The word rolled off his tongue when describing his relish in a fine like chocolate manner, it bursting into flashes as if it were the word itself.

He could go on and on about the word, describing the one he desires most.

The British fellow's pools of eyes scintillated when smiling. Thus sparkling like outer space, bursting into shards of joy when laughing. The black voids scintillating with stars as Tord stared into them.

Speaking of Tord, he lamented in sorrow expressions when even thinking about the small male. That small male was no more, only broken memories and distant happiness. The echo's of the voice he yearned to hear once more echoed in his mind, driving the man half insane. Tord stared at a photo that stained his head with sadness. He pitied himself, the paper coarse against his clammy hands. The Norski quivered his lip, hunched over as the memories brought an unpleasant taste to his mouth, like depressing rainwater.

His limbs started to ache with the metaphorical weight of mourning holding said man down. Vision blurring with hot droplets of emotion, Tord exhaled heavily. The scruffy man nipped at his bottom lip, trying feebly to contain the pathetic cries. He whimpered, letting the first tear streak down. With a distressed inhale, the red-clad let out a choked sob. His shoulders slouched, tangled bangs slanting into his face.

Tord heaved through inconsiderably corrupted lungs, past tobacco lowering down his lung capacity. More tight cries racked his throat, him clawing at his arms grimly. He didn't want to live in an environment without Tom, but he had to keep his promise. Mind shifting gears, the memory of Thomas's last wishing replayed,

"I can't stand to see you like this," you croaked out; pathetic. Tom smiled weakly, shakily breathing in. You grimaced when looking at the poor state said man was in.

"Please, Tord, for me. Please stay living. I need you to stay strong, for me. I-I can't withstand to have you end up like me. You still have years left on you, I'm already one foot in the grave," He chortled dryly. His lips cracked and his voice was exasperated. You frowned,

"Only for you.."

Tord howled in pain when feeling the flashback tug at his weak heartstrings. He comprehended that he had to grow old; to make Tom happy wherever he is. The name Tom imprinted personas in his clouded head. Warm and joyous memories he held close to his heart fading momentarily as the picture of Tom dying off left a deep cut on his humanity. Tord wailed aloud, the old photo crumpling imperceptibly in his stressed grip.

Tom, crippled as he laid in his uncomfortable hospital bed. Paling worse than ever, the once rosy cheeks fading into a bleak and almost transparent pink. Breathing raspily, a weak smile tugging at the cold lips as he shakily held Tord's cheek. Hair fraying and knotted, cold feet and glossy 'eyes'.

Tord sneered, wiping the tears with the meaty palm of his hand. Albeit, he knew it did nothing when the tears gleefully poured down.

"T-turn the faucet off," dryly quipped the Norwegian chap. He grits his teeth roughly, heart-shattering and coiling in the dark devotion of the focus at knack. A dry throat that is incapable to be resolved despite the thick saliva.

Tord chose to rest, breath briefly evening as he thudded upon the crisp and velvet material of the comforter. The luminescence — no, scintillation of the nocturnal stars radiated and caught against the dull maroon walls.

And thus, Tord Larsin drifted off into a dim and bleak dream, Tom and his presence mentally haunting the tall millennial.

-big asf time skipu, more than 50 years later-

Rain plummeted the soil, operating a dark scene. A scene that is more corrupt than it was previously pronounced. The candles scintillated the display, a wash of emotion sheathing the gathering of family and friends. A polished oak coffin sat in front of the teary-eyed homo sapiens, crimson roses skillfully bunched above it. Tord's ghost flew overhead, a frown impersonating its young face. After Tord deceased at the age 77, albeit, his immortality proffered him his young image from 50 years ago.

"Tord?" The floating Norsk quickly swiveled around, tearing up when meeting eyes with two sockets.

"Thomas," Tord cried, floating over to his lover with open arms. Tom gladly opened his arms, large and pure white angel wings scintillating in the faint sunshine. Tord quickly glanced back at his small and still formatting wings, shrugging it off and wrapping his limbs around the other's petite waist.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you, baby bear," Tord soothingly spoke, tears of absolute bliss streaming down his sunkissed skin. Tom grinned.

"Same for me too, big bear." Tord chuckled happily,

"You're so very scintillating, my love."

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well that was sad then cute, smfh uwu

as for questions, what's your favorite story genre ive written in this book? fluff, angst, or smutty smut? tell me in the comments, worker bees! ^^

have an amazing day or night! honey, out!