jail(heart)break (tomtord)

heartful memories

<<two days>>

that was wrong. thats why tord didnt let tom go. this was because of what he did.

and tord loved him, but not enough to set him free.

that was so horrid to say.

he sat in the break room, drinking his third cup of coffee. he was shaking, his hair was a mess and he probably looked like he killed someone.

he shouldnt joke that way, hes a cop.

did he turn the water off before he left?

he was in for a big bill this month. or maybe his house flooded.

backtrack, he thought.

i finished breakfast, washed my plate, then what?

wait, did i even eat breakfast?

didnt i have penne vodka for dinner  last night?

penne vodka, that was toms favourite, and boy was he good at making it.

thats what he was doing when tord broke them off.

tord couldnt wait for their last meal.

why did he leave tom? he couldnt remember.

he looked down at his lunch, a storebought penne vodka fresh from the microwave.

if only he was still with tom he could have been eating a homecooked plate.

of course, food wasnt the only perk of thomas.

but tom did make some good food.

"cheese first, then sauce damnit!" tom scolded jokingly. this was the fourth try of tords penne vodka. he asked tom to teach him.

each time he messed something up, but tom was still supportive of him. instead of throwing out the gross mess, he stored it in the fridge for later.

tom was a dream boy.

oh, the nostalgia penne vodka offered him.

he zoned out and brought back the wonderful memories of the past.

"no, im still learning." tom said, setting up his guitar in its stand.

"c'mon, tom, just play something for me." tord begged.

"i dont even know any songs." tom excused.

"just make one up."

"it wont be good."

tord knew how he could make tom play a song.

he leaned in, inches from toms face. he narrowed his eyes down on tom.

"everything you do is beautiful, thomas."

that was when they first met. they were just highschool buds. tord knew tom wasnt straight, even though he hadnt told him. just the way tom glowed at the sight of tord. tom melted when tord spoke.

they were at toms house, and tom showed tord his checkerboard bass guitar.

"that doesnt sound right."
"no."
"your not doing it good."

tom wanted to form a band, and this was the outcome. tom was the only member that could mangle a song from his guitar.

originally, it was going to be tom and tord, the dynamic duo. then tord found out that his friend pat could sing. now they were the three musketeers.

pat was bestfriends with paul, so they came in a package. two peas in a pod.

paul was assigned to keyboard.

he was pretty good at it. that made tord ashamed. tord was assigned to drums, and he wasnt the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to that.

tom knew how to play the drums, but he said he 'saw potential in guitar. also, it costed much of his currency.'

tom leaned over tord,

"its the snare twice, then a rimshot."

tord played what tom told him. now it sounded right.

"see? you got it!" tom cheered. tom gave tord a quick peck on the lips before trotting back to his position.

"oi! no p.d.a. in the garage!" paul. exclaimed.

they were 17 then. they held band practice in toms garage, constantly monitored by the shed and garden tools hung up on the racks.

//

the place was called retro café,  and it was exactly that. the floors were checkerboard and rows of red glowing wire surrounded the shiny metal walls.

tom munched on a basket of fries as tord was on the verge of throw up. he had only eaten half of his burger, and he could eat no more. its how he stayed morbidly thin. tom was known for eating a lot and staying at his healthy weight.

tord loved this memory because the retro café was his favorite.

and so was tom.

tords birthday, 1982. he was eighteen.

tom took him for a drive.

"i wont tell you. its a surprise." tom teased. his two die (dice) hanging from the rearview mirror bounced as tom drove horribly.

"your such an emo." tord said, talking about toms attire.

tom always wore a dark grey shirt that had a smiling face on it (nirvana) and black skinny jeans that he loved too much. he had had them for a couple years now, and even though he had outgrown them he managed to squeeze  into them.

before tord knew, they were at the airport. that explained the numerous luggage bags in the back.

//

"do my parents know about this? do i have a passport? arent we too young for this?"  tord interrogated as they snaked through lines, passing security and airport stores.

"dont worry tom, this is only slightly illegal."

tord was the kind of kid who always kept out of trouble. and slightly illegal was a problem.

tom took tord to his homecountry, where he got to introduce tom into the family and eat (country) cuisine.

thats why tord loved penne pasta so much, even if it was storebrand. it reminded him of tom.