Blue as Bruises, Red as Blood (TomTord)

•10•

Tord stood patiently outside Tom's door, waiting for him to give him some sort of signal so they could begin their lesson. Standing around for what seemed like an eternity, he got tired of playing on his phone and his eyes began to ache from the screen. He glanced around the hallways, studying each picture frame as the glass reflected a dim light from the afternoon sky. His eyes skimmed each face of the pictures, identifying his 3 roommates. Seeing them smiling as they visited new places made a small grin appear on Tord's face, feeling a tiny bit jealous that he wasn't there to experience the journeys with them. Nonetheless, he was happy for them.

Tord scanned the other photos, but one in particular caught his silver eyes. It was Tom.

He was a young boy in a parking lot, wearing overalls that were many sizes too big and his hair was a feral mess. His face was so round with cherry-colored cheeks. His eyes were dim and disk-like, almost as they are now. In one of his small hands, he held a brown, droopy looking teddy bear that barely touched the ground. Tord stared at the artifact, stunned how he had somehow never realized it were there before.

Without thinking, he reached up and, up on his tippy-toes, detached the frame from the wall. He held the piece, examining the child through the glass as he ran his thumb across the face.

His soul suddenly hung heavy with grief, knowing that this innocent, eyeless child in the parking lot was completely oblivious to the tragedy of his future alcoholism. Silently, Tord hugged the frame, pulling it close to his chest. The overwhelming guilt pulled at the Norwegian's heart, and he took one last look at the picture. As someone who loved Tom, he felt as though it was his role in life to help him the best that he could, even if he didn't improve in the end.

He flipped the frame over, unhinging the clasps and releasing the back cover. Removing the photo, he gently wrapped his fingers around it, almost as if it were a sacred document. He placed the dusty frame and the cover on the floor, still staring at the valuable.

"Tord?"

The deep voice startled Tord, and his instincts forced him to shove the childhood photo into the pocket of his crimson red hoodie.

"A-ah! Tom! There you are, I was waiting for you," he stuttered anxiously, hoping that he didn't catch onto his strange act. Tom stared for a second in silence, then carried on.

"Yeah... I um... was actually just resting." Tom muttered.

Tord couldn't help but notice the heavy bags under his friend's eyes, as well as the dark stain on his blue hoodie. They stood in silence for a few moments, trying to read each other's expressions.

"You can come on in, I can't promise I'll study with you today, though."

"Oh, yes. Of course, that's totally okay,"

The bedroom light blinded him for a moment. The smell of Smirnoff scorched Tord's nose upon walking into his room. His gaze stuck to the floor and he noticed at least a dozen empty bottles of various types of alcohol lined up along the baseboards, some that he had never even heard of. Every single bottle, empty.

Tom took a seat and reclined in his swivel chair, his feet guiding him as he sway back and forth, to and fro. Tord joined him, only silently taking a seat on the corner of his soft, checkerboard bedsheets. The bed squeaked.

"Hey, Tom?"

"Hmm?" Tom casually faced away from him, sipping on an unlabeled bottle that he grabbed from his desk.

"May I ask you a personal question?" His voice trembled a bit as the words came out.

"Have at it," Tom muttered, sounding bored yet interested. The young man in red shifted a bit, trying to make himself comfortable, preparing for the atmosphere to become tense.

"Why the alcohol?" The words came out clearer.

He stopped swaying in the black swivel chair. Silence.

Tord wondered if the question was a tad bit too personal, almost invasive. Yet again, he was determined to change Tom's life for the better, even if it meant discussing touchy subjects.

Tom sighed and slowly turned to face him. His cold, dark eyes seemed to stare right through Tord, despite not having pupils. I fucked up... Once again, he shifted to fix his seating. Except, he was expecting a more bitter tone to come from the alcoholic. He prepared to face nasty words, defending his poor habits. But he didn't. In fact, he was saddened, fearful, almost. Tom touched his face, trying to rid of the guilt.

"Its... Its a long story. One for a rainy day, preferably."

That was all.

Tord looked away, glancing at any object he could just to avoid eye-contact. He was expecting more, but also not surprised with Tom's lack of an explanation. He wasn't much of a sentimental person, more so, not willing to open up to anyone. However, Tord wasn't about to accept that response. He pushed further.

"Tom," the man in blue looked up. "you know I'll always be here for you, right? I... I know I'm not a therapist or anything, and I don't want to be. I just want to know that you're okay, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less. I promise."

Tom took a deep breath. "I know, Tord. I know."

He looked shamefully at the empty bottles, as if looking back into his past.

"Thank you..."

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zoinks.
been a while, hasnt it?
i miss you guys :")