Melting the Ice

Chapter 8

"Angels are often abused in the hands of false gods" - Me while writing this 2018
~~~

This was not happening, not in Tom's bathroom, not now.

Tord shook and shivered, clenching his fist on his chest. He gripped harder and harder until he was at a full attack. The pain of the past and his actions hurt. The fact that he was bothering Tom, hurt. He couldn't take it, he was angry at himself and he just couldn't handle it. He started rocking and mumbling random obscenities at himself, laughing out of utter sorrow. He started to repeat to himself that he was stupid, stupid stupid stupid.

His heart rate was indecipherable and his anger was channeled Into random uncontrollable punches to his forehead and legs, just over and over punching. Until finally Tom burst into the bathroom, and Tord looked up at him and smiled. Tom couldn't even find words, he just ran to the broken shell of a man and held him. Mostly to keep his hands from any more self abuse, but to also console this husk of what he thought he knew was Tord. This went on for hours until it was silent and both men were far beond tired. Tord said something softly into Tom's jacket, "What?" Tom's voice was gone and confused.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Tord raised his voice and his fist clenched, swiftly hitting the ground. Tom weakly grabbed Tord's fist and shook his head, trying to assure Tord that for right now its ok. But the apologies kept coming and coming, Until Tord ran out of energy and passed out in Tom's arms.

Tom gently layed Tord down and went to clean up the now gross soggy pancakes, so he could start some kind of evening lunch.

Pretty long right!?!? I should be asleep :,^)

Note 2021: hey, for anyone wondering why the panic attack is so specific, thats how my panic attacks used to work. Fucking crazy, huh?