oh boy, what flavour? (Tord/Matt)

oh boy, what flavour?

When Tord woke up that morning, he realized that he had been going through the same, bleak routine for too long.

Get up, knock on Matt's door, ask if he was okay, get no reply. Leave, eat breakfast with his housemates, bring a plate upstairs for Matt, go about his day, find either an untouched or empty plate by the door-- usually the former, rinse and repeat those last two steps and go to bed. That was the basic pattern everyday, for the past week now. The past week.

I mean, Tord had, in fact, been dumped before. He knew it sucked, but room-bound for a week? Either Matt had ran away and wasn't telling anyone, or he was really, really, really upset with this.

Matt was a nice person- sweet, sometimes, if he could think past himself for a minute. He could see why this would affect him so drastically, past the jokes Tom made about how this clearly hurt his gargantuan ego. Tord didn't participate in those jokes, but for once, it wasn't to spite Tom.

Tord wasn't very talkative in the group. He acted more than he spoke; he observed, and listened, and heard, and if he needed to, he fought. The drawback from this is that no one really knows who you are, or what you like past very basic things.

The benefit is the fact that you probably know more about anyone than they know about you. You hear the things whispered under their breath, see the way they look away at times. You see when they decide to walk away, when they choose to fight, when they give up.

More importantly, though, you also end up learning what their favorite type of cookies are, and for Tord, that was much more valuable than anything else he knew at the moment.

•·················•·················•

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

Tord sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in what he hoped to communicate was pure, complete, very clear annoyance in its most refined form, curated best by that motherfucker in front of him. He had just finished breakfast with Edd and Tom, and managed to catch the least favorable of the two before he decided to retreat to another room. Tord was currently stuck partaking in what had recently become his most common pastime; dealing with Tom's bullshit.

"You heard me, Tom," he replied, making sure the exasperation and disdain was far from subtle, releasing his hand and using it to gesture instead. "What do you not understand about this?"

"Well, why you're doing it, of course. Pretty sure the last time you had the house more or less to yourself, we ended up with a giant hole in our wall-"

"-Because I threw a couch at it, yes, but we fixed the wall and the fridge is full of bacon this time and Edd won't be here, okay? So it's nothing to worry abou-"

"-But you still can't tell me-"

"-because it isn't important!-"

"-if it isn't important why don't you want to tell me?"

Tord stopped there, then breathed in just to let out a long, dramatic, very long, lengthy, looooooong sigh before glaring at Tom.

"You wanna sigh for another five minutes?" Tom asked blankly, watching as Tord dug into his pockets and finally pulled out a £20 note.

"Here, will this get you to stop being a pain in my ass for a day?"

Tom looked at the note in Tord's hand- clearly thinking over whether he wanted to take his rival's money or continue being a jerk solely out of spite rather than actual suspicion.

"We'll be back by 7," Tom replied finally, grabbing the currency from Tord's hand and walking towards the living room instead. "Don't wait up."