Unexpected(CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN)

chapter forty-five

"Alright, you weeb."

Tom glanced up, taking a swig out of his bottle. Edd had ruffled Tord's hair, the Norwegian already trying to fix it. Edd, standing a few inches taller than Tord, had just beaten the commie at a small game of wrestling. The two barbarians had been fighting on the floor.

"I take 'weeb' as a compliment, you cola-addict," Tord teased, flipping Edd off.

"Whatever. Cola is delicious, so it's not my fault," the burly man replied, sticking his tongue out. Still a pretty pure guy. "Look, I actually need sleep, unlike you. I don't run off of coffee. Therefore, I'm going to bed." Speaking of which, Edd did look kind of tired. He rubbed at his eyes, turning to leave.

"Wait, what about Matt?" Tom blurted out suddenly, glancing at the man. Matt was laying on the sofa, eyes closed gently, snoring. Both Tord and Edd looked at Tom in surprise - had he been there the whole time? - before returning their gaze to Matt.

Edd walked forward, picking him up. "I got him," he said quietly, staring at him lovingly.

Gay.

"Have a good night, Edd," Tom offered gently, watching as Edd turned and walked swiftly out of the room and down the hallway. Tord spoke no words as the noise of a closing door clicked through the apartment.

You're alone with your lover; time to face reality, eh?

Tom didn't respond, just taking a long drink from his bottle. This was going to be awkward.

"Looks like it's just the two of us," grudgingly said Tord, his eyes lingering on Tom. Tom didn't respond, just took another drink from his bottle. "You know, I thought you said you didn't drink."

Yeah, taunted the voice, I thought you quit!

"Quitting is for the weak," he responded. Oh, fuck. He didn't respond to the right... person? Voice? Whatever.

"I didn't say you should quit," Tord snapped, falling back on the couch as he reached for the remote.

Tom paused. "Didn't sound like it."

"Doesn't sound like you care."

He never cares. Haven't you realized that by now, Tord?

"I do care," Tom futilely defended, taking another swig. Damn it, he was out out Smirnoff. "Fuck!" he cursed, standing up.

"Nope!" Tord cut him off, standing and taking the bottle out of Tom's hand in a flash. "Come on, Thomas. Haven't you had enough by now?"

"Don't call me that," Tom snarled back, sitting back down on the couch with a defeated sigh.

What, Thomas? Does it bring back bad memories?

Please, fuck off, Tom begged silently, pressing his palms into the corner of his eyes.

How about... no.

"I'm so fucked," he whispered, eyes closing as he leaned back.

"Why? Because you're becoming an alcoholic again?" Tord snorted, fingers jabbing harshly at Tom's shoulder.

"Shut your dirty fucking mouth, commie," he growled, hearing the click of the remote, then the noise of the television.

"Whatever, Jehovah's Witness." The weight that was on the couch disappeared suddenly. Tom cracked his eyes open to get a peek, only to jump as a blanket was thrown on top of him and the weight returning to the couch.

"What the?" he questioned, pulling the blanket away from his face and turning to stare at Tord.

Tord shrugged. "You obviously weren't moving. Just go to sleep, Thomas."

Yeah, Thomas. Just go to sleep. In your sleep, you can't bother him.

Tom sighed, bringing the cover closer to him. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Night night, Tommy.