Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Wow, rude

"Now."

A large, dull grey building stood tall amongst the vegetation; long thick branches and dense underbrush wrapped themselves around the impressive brick mass, lingering lethargically as it hid from view. It was surrounded by an extensive, sweeping wall, coils of barbed wire glinting threateningly in the faint sunlight, twisted on top of the barrier, hung up like a grotesque Christmas decoration. Sniper towers littered the ground, placed strategically amongst the foliage, gruff looking soldiers peering out at the empty hills of the rolling countryside, their guns cocked and expressions grim.

Tom leaned back in his seat, feeling the black plush fabric sink slightly under his weight. Fingers twitching, he curled his hands into tight fists, gripping onto the safety handle with a white knuckles grip. Feeling his breathing hitch, he gulped audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Was he ready for this?

He thought, the fuck, not.

All things considered- Tom did really want to know, well, everything. So far, he had been stumbling blindly in the dark, grasping at straws and obsessively overanalysing any piece of useful information that he could get his grubby little paws on. And whilst that had worked- somewhat- up until that point, he knew good and well that having a full, clear view of the situation at hand would make the whole process so much easier.

That didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to be scared, however.

Despite being closely related: the concept of longing for something very badly, and yet not being emotionally or psychologically ready for it was a different matter entirely. It was the common human battle of want versus need- that, just because someone wants something, that doesn't mean that they should get it, whether it be because they didn't know better, or because they weren't prepared to go through with it.

It was like a relationship, or a tattoo, or losing your virginity- very simple desires that craved to be itched, but if done too soon, or irresponsibly planned out, may negatively affect the rest of your life.

This is the gaping cesspit of human failure that Tom had fallen down many times- and, apparently, still refuses to fully climb out of.

"Classic, stupid Tom."

He shivered.

Wrapping his free arm around his body in self-comfort, he startled slightly as a strong, gentle hand grazed his upper thigh. Heart jumping up his throat, his stomach lurched and withered in pleasure as it squeezed the meat of his leg in silent support.

"There, there- don't be silly." Tord murmured, guiding the van through the rocky, uneven road, "Who's my brave little soldier?"

Not Tom, clearly.

It was all a little too much, to be frank.

Either he was the worlds greatest pussy, or the ominous looking structure really was a bizarre symbol of future, forbidding doom.

Can you really trust your gut not to lie to you?

Instead of answering, he watched anxiously as they made it towards an enormous metal gate- two serious looking soldiers posing as guards on either side of it. Upon seeing the vehicle, they saluted; their spines snapping up straight, eyes hard and chins up.

Swallowing hard, Tom realised that the uniforms looked uneasily familiar.

But from where?

Tord honked the horn, twice, sharply. Immediately, the two guards sprang into action, their grasp on their firearms loosening as they worked together to open the way. Once they were successful, they saluted again; sharp and alert.