Drowning Lessons | 💫TOMTORD💫

Cherry Red Poison | 11

a bit of tw in the begining srry*

Tom sat on the counter next to the sink in Tord's bathroom as he dabbed a wet towel on his leg, washing off all the dry blood on his skin. His leg burned as he held onto Tord, clutching the fabric of his white shirt on his back. 
"I'm sorry." he muttered once again as Tord rubbed at his leg.

"I know." Tord repeated softly, keeping his arm around Tom's waist. The gashes in his leg were so much deeper then he had imagined, the skin around it swollen and littered with previous scars and scabs. "Thomas..." his voice shook "How long have you been doing this?" Tom breathed in deep before speaking quietly as Tord rest the towel on the tile surface of the counter.

"Since I was fourteen." Tord pulled away, keeping his hands at his shoulders to look him in the eyes. Tom looked down. "It started when my mom started dating again and my brother left, I just haven'tbeen able to stop, really." 
Tord bit his lip to keep from crying, letting his hands fall from his shoulders. 

"To be honest..." Tom spoke again, seeing that his words hurt Tord. "It really stopped after I met you, I went an entire three months without doing it, but when the stress of school starting again kind of hit me..." He stopped, watching as Tord's shoulder's shook as he faced away from him. 

He reached his hand out to touch his fingertips between Tord's shoulder blades.
"Tord...." he spoke out. "Angel, I'm so sorry." His eyes flooded.

Tord turned, taking both his hands in his own as he rest his head forward on his chest, closing his eyes against the fabric of his tight pale blue t-shirt.
"I love you, Just don't want you to hurt like that, I want you to be happy." He spoke "That's all that matters."

After a moment of silence Tord sat up, pecking Tom on the cheek before leaving. He walked to his room, searching through his drawers for something for Tom as he knew how much he hated wearing tight shirts, he dug through his drawer until he found an oversized yellow shirt at the bottom of the folded shirts.

'Bad music for Bad people.'

He tugged the shirt and some jeans quickly out of the drawers and took off for the bathroom. He stepped in the doorway, greeting Tom with a sad smile.
"I brought you something else to wear." He said, handing Tom the shirt as he opened the cabinet above the sink to find wrap bandages.

"You like The Cramps?" Tom joked, trying to fix the situation he created.
"Fuck off, just put it on." Tord remarked.

Tom Tugged at his shirt, finding the pain to worsen as he moved. His binder pinched at his chest and he so badly wished to take it off, yet not being able to escape the extreme pain up his leg as he turned and twisted, fighting to pull it off as it clung to his skin like soaked denim.
He looked down then, suddenly feeling a sharp sinking feeling in his chest as he looked upon himself, quickly looking away from his, now, not so flat looking chest.

"T-Tord?" He stuttered out. Tord looked up to him at his sudden words. "Can you... turn off the lights?"

Tord flipped the switch without much question in his eyes as Tom continued to struggle. He wished his leg didn't hurt, he wished he could breath through the constriction of his chest, he wished he didn't hate his body. He wished he was just born a male.

He broke down. Sobbing into his hands as Tord flipped back on the lights, quickly finding himself at Tom's side.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked.

Tom squeaked out barley legible words though brokenhearted soft sobs to his boyfriend.
Tord didn't understand the pain he felt, he didn't know his body, he didn't know. If only he knew.

If only he could just grow up and suggest the one thing he has been thinking about forever, and what he had bought to try to make himself do it, maybe he'd feel better to share this type of shit with him, but he was also scared. He'd see his own ugly feminine body and he'd probably have another break down.