Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Five serious titles in a row? I think not

Tears blurred his vision, thick and hot, spilling from his red-rimmed sockets to trickle over his heated cheeks. Blinding smears of white and tan morphed together, mixing distortedly- the world tilting into a wobbly mess of colour. Sniffling, he blinked away the watery intrusion, desperately trying to clear his view. Once he did, he distinctly wished that he hadn't.

But he had no choice in the matter.

It was his punishment after all.

A once intense burn of a silvery stare had been reduced to a dull, lifeless swirl of muted colour- face scrunched up tight, wrinkles outlining his eyes from the pressure. Lips pressed into a small frown, the edges of his mouth wobbled dangerously, as though suppressing barely concealed cries. Throat flexing, his Adam's apple bobbed, lean muscles pulled taut.

"Tord."

Only a monster can make such a strong man crumble.

Tom gasped his name like an apology, soft and bittersweet. Lips curling in grief, both of his hands flew up towards his face, cupping his mouth, eyes unwilling to look away from such an image.

It only just occurred to him that Tord was currently shirtless.

A sick, twisted part of him- vastly unrelated to the beast currently lurking in his brain- was pleased that the first time he saw Tord's bare chest was during a moment he couldn't enjoy; or look back on in fondness.

He didn't deserve such a simple, human pleasure.

Sorrowful stare roamed on, taking in the strong swoop of his shoulders, a puffy pink circle marring the left side- a recently made scar.

A gunshot wound, Tom mentally whispered, the blood stain on his hoody.

That explains why Tord was so angry with him when he came home late from the cafe- he thought Tom had done that to him.  Barely restraining himself, and spitting empty threats into their shared air- hurt inside and out, scared of the future but determinately marching towards it nonetheless. 

"I can't wait, Big Boy."  

The words echoed back at him, distant and harsh- disgust rolled in his gut, spreading through his body like a deadly poison. 

Ironic, considering he would move on to do much worse bodily damage later. 

Breathing laboured, he pushed on, brows furrowing as his gaze finally rested of the rounded stump of Tord's left arm. Swallowing thickly, he found himself unable to fully look away- almost as though the rest of the world had disappeared, every inch of scarred exposed skin burning into his brain. 

Tord grinned, fangs flashing- it looked awkward and forced, the joking nature of the expression not quite reaching his eyes. He huffed out a broken, bitter laugh, chest expanding sharply.

"I guess you could say that-," His words were shaky, and croaked, "You caught me unarmed."  

The end came out thick and watery, a heavy sob mixing with the pitiful words. 

Chest tightening, Tom stepped closer to the plastic screen, rounding past his bed and tentatively reaching out with a trembling hand. He curled in on himself, back hunched and his other arm wrapped around his stomach, a sickness sloshing around inside of him.

"No, no no no- please don't do that. Not with me-." Tom squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head wildly in pain, "You don't have to pretend you're strong- "