Tangled - Chapter six

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// This was kinda painful to write but also really fun ?? I don't know. Maybe writing is drugs.

Anyway, enjoy and stay tuned! \\



EDD POV

Tom apologized the next morning. The puffiness in his eyes, the dark rings underneath them, and the quiver in his voice as he spoke led me to believe that it was genuine, but I needed to make sure.


"You're really sorry?" I asked, slipping a hint of uncertainty into my tone.


Tom nodded, "Yeah. I am. I shouldn't have accused you."


I smiled modestly, trying to analyze everything happening all at once in his vivid, black, eyes. I found sadness, regret, but still some tiny bursts of anger. I'd have to make it up to him, then.


"Okay," I put a hand on his cheek, "I forgive you. And I'm sorry, too."


He pulled me in for a hug, and I obliged, taking a deep breath as I did so. When we were eye to eye again, I gave him a full, warm, smile, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Go take a shower."


He chuckled, "You, too."


I faked melodramatic shock as he gave me a peck on the cheek and went to the bathroom. I watched him shut the door behind him, and sighed a little. We were getting better.


-



Work was always slow in the mornings, most folk usually just went to one of the many coffee shops down the street, but we'd get the occasional customer. One of our more frequent visitors was a fisherman named Patryck. He seemed too skinny to be a fisherman on the outside, but quickly proved he wasn't weak at all; Patryck carried the bagful of fish Tord had struggled with with relative ease.


He'd started coming one day with no other explanation than "Tord wouldn't be comin' for a while,". We accepted it as fact, and kept about our regular routines. Despite how nonchalant Patryck was about this, I couldn't help but wonder. I hadn't even seen Tord in the last week or so, and whenever I brought him up, Patryck would just give some half-assed response. I tried to pry, but Patryck wouldn't budge, which led to him searching for any way to leave the conversation or not partake in it entirely.


"Please," I would say, "I'm getting worried. I haven't seen him in, like, a week."


Patryck would shake his head, "I'm not gonna tell you. It's his business."
It would either loop, or get altered in some tiny way, and loop again.


Eventually, he gave me a clue, "He works the nightshift now- he's so tired, you wouldn't want to see him anyway."


I blinked, confused, "Did you and Paul make him do that?"


"I.." Patryck realized he said too much, "We don't make 'em. He just wants to."


I frowned, "Why would he-"


"I'm sorry, I'd love to stay and talk," He lied, "but I have to get to work. Bye, Edd."
He didn't wait for me to speak, and just left. I sighed, a little irritated, but with a plan.


-


I walked into Red's Fish an hour or two before it closed, to be greeted with Tord passed out on the counter top. Half of his torso lay on the table, the other was leaned over lazily in the chair, and his face was totally obscured in his arms.


I shook him gently on the shoulder, but when that failed, I pulled out my phone, and googled a cursed song.


Sunshine Lollipops played through the phone's speakers, and I held it right up to his ear. He stirred, then jolted awake, flinging his body as far away from the song as possible.


"Edd!" He gasped, "What the hell?"


"You wouldn't wake up," I said bluntly. Tord rubbed his eyes, and grunted.


"Can you turn it off at least?" His tone was bitter.


I hit the pause button, turned off my phone with a click, and began my investigation.


I started with an obvious question, "Where were you? You've been gone for ages."


"A week," He mumbled.


I crossed my arms, and huffed, "Hyperbole. Answer the question."


Tord leaned back in the chair, muttering something, and already falling back asleep. I grabbed his shoulders abruptly.


He jumped in his chair, "Matt! I was seeing Matt."


I hesitated, then spoke, "Sounds familiar. Have I met him?"


"No," He started mumbling again.


"Then I want to," I said. Tord didn't really seem to react. So, I reiterated, "Tord, I wanna meet your boyfriend."


"He's not my boyfriend," His tone was somewhat defensive, "I'm.. I'm not gay."


I raised an eyebrow at him.


"Okay, yeah, fine, but he's still not my boyfriend."


"Let me meet him. Please?"


I gave him my classic puppy eyes, and slid a hand onto his forearm. His body was oddly cold, but I didn't give up.


"Please?" I asked again.


Tord tried to resist, but in the end, he failed, "Fine. But you're not gonna like him."


"Why wouldn't I?"


"You'll see. Meet me at the docks at four."


"But it's.. five now."


"Four AM."


"Oh."


Confusion crept onto my face, and Tord seemed to lavish in it.

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