Finding

(4) Conversation [Part 2]

Notes:

Hello, everyone.

I'm not sure if you noticed, but when Tord addresses or thinks of the eyeless man as "Thomas" he's naturally trying to distance himself from the man. Tord is trying to make a distinguishing difference on how should he treat the other. Meanwhile, he refers to the Brit as "Tom" when he's more relaxed or wants to be closer to the other.

I mean, having a way to differently refer to the Brit is somehow kind of like a coping mechanism for Tord to differentiate when he needs to be serious, professionally or some other reason, and when he could thing put down his defenses with the brunet.

Anyway, I 'm just saying since people might wonder why at certain moments Tord refers to the other as "Thomas" and sometimes "Tom."

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He was tired.

Exhausted actually.

He just woke up from sleep and wanted some answers but instead got into an argument with Thomas.

It was pretty pathetic in all senses of the world.

And yet, the high and mighty leader of the Red Army couldn't stop himself from pushing through and trying to convince Thomas that what he was feeling wasn't love.

It was just all messed up.

They were both messed up.

Sighing at the knowledge that the Brit made up his mind, Tord wanted nothing more but to shake the man and make him wake up from his weird delusion. It was just all crazy.

But it looked like Thomas would have none of it as he carefully inquired, "Why can't you just accept the fact that I love you?"

The silvernette knows that he shouldn't be having such a talk with his state right now but the way the eyeless man looked had something inside the Norwegian saying to hell with everything and just tell the other the truth. The whole truth about himself to clear things up.

Tord gave another sigh, "Let me go, Tom."

Noticing the other's reluctance, he leaned his head up and chastely kissed the taller man. "I'm not going to run away, Tom."

With that, the Brit finally released the Norski's hand and distanced himself. "Your wrist...I'm sorry."

Turning to what the eyeless man was talking about, Tord was able to see how noticeably bruised it was and simply dismissed it. Tord then bit his lip for a moment before motioning to Thomas to lie down beside him. "Look. What I'm about to tell you shouldn't get out," he warned quietly.

"Okay."

With Thomas now beside him, the silvernette lied on top of the other and felt the Brit's arms tentatively warp around him. The warmth of the embrace gave him warmth that he didn't know he needed.

"So...Okay.

Remember when you asked me about being a Larsson?"

"Of course, I do, Commie."

"Well, you weren't exactly wrong in a certain sense. I mean, part of genetics was supposed to be a Larsson."

The Brit blinked a couple of times at that statement before asking, "What do you mean by your genetics 'supposedly part Larsson'?"

"Well...We do all know from basic Sex Ed. Classes that to make a child you'd need a sperm and an egg. My father had the sperm and my mother had the egg.

Anyway, I was unfortunately a product of a one-night stand. A mistake.

That said, even with how my biological mother, Viridian Larsson, tried to kill me by having my underdeveloped body pulled out of her, I survived. I survived long enough that my grandfather was able to find out about my existence since a fetus was found in the family's private garden."

"Wait, your grandfather only found out that his daughter had a child was because they found you as a fetus somewhere in their family garden!?"

The incredulity in Thomas' tone told the Norski enough that after this whole thing the Brit would want to be away from him. So, clenching the sheets with his free hand, he soldiered on.

"Yes, he did.

It turned out that Viridian expected that the fetus would be eaten by some random animal. Unfortunately for her, none of the animals did that and instead stayed clear of me. Which was why, the gardener found me as all the animals appeared to be afraid of me.

From there, my grandfather had things investigated and found out I was still miraculously alive. Which had him thinking whether I was viable enough in being their test subject.

And a test subject I became.

For the first few years of my life, Thomas. I was nothing else but a lab experiment that got repeatedly poked, prodded, cut open, pumped full of chemicals and tested. From my physical abilities to my mental capacity; all of it was being measured to gain data that could help the Larsson family.

Heck, I wasn't even human they said.

A complete monster.

Therefore, the Larsson genes had to be purged from me and they had me subjected to other cruel treatments until my genetic data hardly resembled anymore of their bloodline."

"But you are an Obelia, right? The brunet queried as he seemingly tried to make sense of things.

"Yes, I am. After all, it seemed like part of the irregularity that they were receiving came from my father's side of the genetic code. Which in turn, had the Obelia parts further polished and purified."

"......"

"Anyway, it was due to the experiments that my hair and eye color had changed. From a dark blond and blue gem-like eyes, my hair became silver and my eyes gem green."

"So...Basically, your mom was a Larsson but due to the experiments your gene code changed?"

"Yes, it did. That said, all the pain and hatred was worth it. It was part of what made me as who I am." Tord idly confessed and stared at the taller man's black voids.

"But that doesn't explain why I can't love you." The Brit reasoned out.

Grimacing at the implication that Thomas wasn't getting things, Tord had the urge to punch the eyeless man. But instead he pulled away.

"What can't you not get!?

I am fucking monster, Thomas! A fucking lab experiment!

Heck, the reason I conquered Canada and burned down that lab was to cover that very fact you, nitwit!"

Thomas groaned in frustration, "What about it, Tord!? I mean, I fucking turn into a giant scary purple monster that bloody fucking kills people when angry. Not only that, I could slice metal tanks as if they were melted butter with my claws and could survive a bomb in my monster form.

How does you being experimented on makes you someone unworthy of love!?

My love of all things!?"

Rage building up again, Tord spat back, "It's not about being worthy or unworthy! It's about how it should never happen!

Your mind is just playing tricks on you, Tom.

You don't love me. You don't have feelings for me."

"For the love of Jehovah, Commie!

Is that all that really is!? I'm not supposed to love you?

But I definitely know that I do and, whatever you say, nothing is going to change it!"