(Warning: Harsh Language, Sexual Dialogue)
Tord was refusing to do anything. It was just too sunny. It was just too hot. It was an emos worst nightmare, because hot meant no sleeves and no black, because those make you even more hot. So Tord stayed in his room without a shirt and sitting cross legged in front of his fan.
He was flicking through his phone when he got a message from, well, not so much his "friend" as they had a mutual hatred of each other, but someone who he could tolerate.
Jehovah's Witness: U got ac?
Tord rolled his eyes. He clicked on the message, taking him out of tumblr and into his messenger. He typed a sarcastic response before deleting it and typing something else
Commie: Y?
He waited a moment for a response, then when no sign of typing appeared, he went back to his app to pass time. A few seconds later, it had to be interrupted by the another message.
Jehovah's Witness: Bc mines dead edds not responding and matts gone somwhere
Tord let out a scoff at the Brit's behaviour. Obviously it was just because Tom wanted his air conditioning, and probably half of his fridge, too. Why would Tom want to hang out for any other reason. And of course he'd ask Edd and Matt first. Because Edd and Matt are so much better than him. Of course he was the last option.
Commie: Ya I do
Jehovah's Witness: Im coming over
Tord was about to type out a no, but stopped himself. This was time with Tom, even if it would probably be spent in separate rooms, it was time. Tord chewed his lip and felt his cheeks warm. But he couldn't just say yes. He had to sound cool.
Commie: Whatever
Tord then texted his dads, telling them in a group chat that he invited a friend over. They had been unfazed, offering an okay, but that was about it. He went back to the app he was on beforehand, expecting there to be no more texts, which he was right about.
His mind wandered back to Tom. His soulless eyes and handsome face. How he had that punk atmosphere and look. His spiky hair that stood up straight as if he was constantly alert. How he loved all things checkered, littering his body with them.
His cheeks got warmer and redder as he thought, but he didn't care at the moment. He could easily blame it on the heat. He knew he had a crush on the boy. He was past denying it in his head, but he sure as hell would deny it in real life.
He jumped at the sound of the door, then rushed down to get it. He shook his head before opening the door, clearing his mind and calming himself. He opened the door and greeted Tom with an expressionless look.
Tom was wearing a white tank top with navy blue shorts, and had one hand it his pocket. His head was slightly cocked to the side and his face was the same as Tord's. His black eyes flickered down to the Norwegian's chest unnoticeably and then back up. Suddenly, he was no longer red just from the heat.
He offered a nod in greeting, along with a, "Hey," as he slide into the house.
Tord repeated the phrase and Tom stretched and sighed, "Holy fuck, this is so much better."
"You're welcome, yah freeloader," Tord scoffed.
"So where we hanging?"
Tord tilted his head, "We? Thought you were just gonna go down to the basement and leave me alone. Or into my fridge."
"My phone's too hot to work and I'll be bored, unless you don't want me around," he shrugged.
Tord held himself back from yelling, "No!" He had to sound cooler than that, obviously. He rolled his eyes, "Whatever you want, dude."
He walked past the Brit and to his room, "not caring" if Tom followed or not. He sat in his original position next to the fan. He saw that Tom had followed and now lay on his bed. He was on his stomach with his head almost falling off the edge in Tord's direction.
Tom just seemed to be looking at him, studying him. The Norski felt awkward and creeped out. "Need something?"
"I'm bored, dumbass. Entertain me."
"Entertain yourself."
The room was quiet for a moment. Tom looked at Tord's face, then his chest, then his face again, then his hair. A voice, possibly instinct, told him to touch, and he complied. Reaching out a hand, he ran it through the boy's hair. The spikes flattened out, then sprung up again, and Tom almost laughed. He took one horn and pulled.
Tord leaned away quickly. "Stop that," he spoke.
"Why?" Tom challenged.
Tord rolled his eyes. "Because I have a hair pulling kink, that's why," Tord spat sarcastically.
Tom rolled his eyes and stopped... for a moment. Enough time for Tord to assume that he was done.
Stealthily as possible, Tom reached over again and laid a hand on the batch of caramel hair. Tord didn't pull away but his head shot up to glare at the Brit, who was grinning. He tsked and went back to looking at his phone.
Both male were enjoying the contact, but they were too emo to admit it.
