Dear Starboy |*I've missed you*| (Continuation of Dear Starboy)

Bad Habits

DISCLAIMER: So, uh... Where do I start. Please don't do anything that isn't right between these two stories. Like, teen drinking and suicide or self harm... Those are all really big nopes. If you do feel like it's "right " to do it, please, please, PLEASE get some help. Ok thanks, enjoy the story

December third. It pained Tom to think that this time last year, he was rolling around in self-pity, wishing that Tord was still his friend. Now all he wanted was for Tord to be alive. Then he felt it. A pain so unbearably strong that he crippled the split second that it hit him, falling onto the ground with his knees up to his chest. "Argh..." Tom moaned, trying to stand up again. It can't be that time again. Not yet.

Upon the death of Tom's one and only love, he developed many terrible habits. A drinking problem, not showering, re-wearing the same dirty clothes, you name it. Anything that showed that a man has no respect for himself, he did. The worst of his problems was eating though. Tom would only leave his room on occasion to have a meal, but even that was rare. He had convinced himself to only let into the temptation of food when it felt like his stomach was eating itself.

Tom threw on his unwashed blue hoodie to cover his usual black tank-top. He groggily and stealthily made his way past the couch, where Edd an Matt lay, watching the news. "It has been one year since..." Edd turned off the TV. Nobody needed to hear the rest to know what the headline said. 

"...my love killed himself," Tom mumbled, completing the headline and taking down a plate. "All because I was afraid of my stupid father. A drunk who couldn't bare to think of a gay son." He opened a cupboard and retrieved a bottle of his Smirnoff,  the stuff that Tord said tasted like nail polish remover. "BUT LOOK HOW CLOSE I'VE COME TO THAT!" he screamed, tears welling up in his eyes as he smacked a nearby vase onto the floor, shattering it. 

Matt and Edd only stared at Tom as he hastily left the kitchen, leaving everything in it's place. So much for stealthy, Tom thought. While picking at the frozen vegetables that lay before him, he stripped away his blue hoodie, the one his dear starboy had left for him. Instead of chucking it onto the ground like he usually did, he took a moment to hug it. He pulled the hoodie up to his face, using it to wipe away the tears. Then he inhaled. There were overlapping scents, mainly body odor and vodka, but a slight, sweet smell overrode it all. Cider. When Tord was drunk, he had spilt quite a bit onto the hoodie, so the smell lingered even after its wash.